


Miracle of Life

by tinarebekka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-03-23 14:01:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 121,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3770935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinarebekka/pseuds/tinarebekka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron Weasley always said that Draco Malfoy was a leech, sucking people dry. Who’d have thought that he had a point? How does it affect the people surrounding him, especially Harry?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for H/D Bigbang: Erised in 2011. Due to time issues not all parts of it are proofread and so, sadly, there will be grammar and spelling mistakes as I am no native speaker. 
> 
> If you're still giving it a chance, I'm glad and I hope you will find the story intriguing and have fun reading it.

Harry woke up to a world of pain. He didn’t grasp what hurt and why, but he subconsciously rolled to his side, clutching both hands to his lower abdomen. There were voices in the background, hands reached for him and tried to turn him to his back, but Harry fought against them, curling into an even tighter ball. Someone said to leave him be. Then one kind soul must have administered some potions and Harry drifted off to sleep.

\----

It was a bright, sunny late summer day when Harry and his friends set out to their last journey to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. They had all signed up for another year, their eighth. Theoretically, they should have finished their education with the end of the previous school year, their final year, for it had been supposed to end with the N.E.W.T.s. After them they would have been released into the world to live their lives.

Unfortunately, Harry, Ron and Hermione weren’t just ordinary students and while their classmates remained in the castle to study and prepare for life after school, those three were spending the year searching for the remaining Horcruxes, therefore effectively missing a whole year.

In the end, it turned out that, due to the battle taking place before the finals, no one was able to do the tests. So, to give the students a fair chance, everyone was allowed to apply for another year. And most of them followed the invitation of Headmistress McGonagall and returned to school.

“Did you keep track on who agreed to come back and who declined?” Ron asked his girlfriend. Hermione, as Head Girl, was more involved in the planning of the school year than he and Harry. Not that he envied her the additional work. Harry knew Ron was hoping for a quiet and relaxed year, recompensing them somewhat for what lay behind them. Everything he was planning to pay attention to besides his studies, was Quidditch.

“From our year, you mean?” she asked, already reaching for her bag and pulling out long lists of parchment. She had only come back to the compartment Harry and Ron had grabbed for them a few minutes ago. The prefects’ meeting had been held brief as most of the students understandably were more interested in catching up with their friends.

Ron shrugged. “I guess…”

“Because not everyone in the younger years came back,” Hermione added, ignoring his comment. “You already know from attending the memorial services that there are quite a few people who won’t be coming back. But there are others, as well. Some of them are going to finish their schooling at Durmstrang or Beauxbatons, and some of them dropped out altogether.”

“And what about our year mates? No one got their N.E.W.T.s, and I’m sure not everyone is going to go live off their father’s fortune like Malfoy,” Ron sneered when he mentioned their enemy’s name. “Most of us do need our marks to find a job…” He trailed off and started to grin. “But his father’s not going to be able to support his sorry arse any longer, is he?”

“Why shouldn’t he?” Harry asked, perplexed. As far as he was concerned, Malfoy had paid a hefty sum and was going to spend a few months – maybe years – in Azkaban, but that wouldn’t ruin their entire fortune.

Hermione took a breath and opened her mouth to say something, but Ron beat her to it. 

“Because whatever they did to amass their riches, it won’t be possible any longer. Every known Death Eater family is under supervision of the Ministry and so Malfoy can forget about resuming his old ways.”

“Malfoy,” the irritated young woman cut in, “is not going to earn his living in the upcoming year because he’s going to attend classes with the rest of us.”

“Oh Gods, no, please not. Please say you’re joking. And it’s a rather cruel joke I’ve got to say,” Ron complained, making Harry flinch at his tone. He just didn’t want to fight anymore. Not with anyone. And if Malfoy wanted to get his N.E.W.T.s, they should all just let him be; providing he left everyone alone in return, of course.

“I don’t care if Malfoy’s coming back,” Harry said. “Have you seen him yet, ‘Mione?”

“Uh, yeah…” Hermione said, apparently wracking her brain to come up with something, anything, suitable to change the topic. She knew as well as Harry that going down that path of conversation would only lead to chaos and frustration. Certainly, they deserved a few more hours of reprieve.

“You did? Why didn’t you say so when you first got back to us?” Trust Ron to ask the exact thing she’d rather not talk about.

“I…forgot? – Say, Harry, how are you fairing in your own home?” She looked hopeful, almost like she was inwardly praying that Harry would launch into a longwinded explanation of how he had done up the place with the help of Winky, the Hogwarts house-elf that had attached herself to him once Dobby had died.

And Harry did her the favour.

“Oh, we made a lot of progress. We’ve been done with the ground floor for quite some time now and already started working on the upper floor. My bedroom will get finished at Christmas, I think. Winky was going to work on the rest of the rooms during my absence. But then she started crying at the thought of being alone in the house. I felt guilty to leave her on her own for a few months; you know how she is. If she’s going to start drinking again it won’t help anybody and well, McGonagall said it was okay to bring her.”

“So she’s waiting for you at the castle?” Hermione asked excitedly. She appreciated his attitude in this matter. She had always been an advocate for the rights of house-elves and if Harry let Winky work for him, she could be sure that he at least treated her kindly and not like some soulless slave.

“Yes. She waved me goodbye this morning and told me to leave my stuff with her, she’d bring everything with her later today. This is why I don’t have my trunk with me,” Harry explained.

“You don’t?” Ron blinked. “I never noticed.”

“I also didn’t notice,” Hermione admitted. She must have been so distracted with the prefects’ meeting and everything else, that she had missed that fact. Knowing her, Harry figured that she harshly rebuked herself for being inattentive. Just because the war was over didn’t mean that they could afford to start acting carefree.

“Remember that I’ve been here before you guys?” Harry asked, acting unconcerned. He didn’t want her to feel bad. “If you’d seen me walking on the platform you would have noticed at once.”

“Where will she be staying? With the other house-elves?” Hermione had to ask.

Harry nodded. “Yes. And she’s going to get back to work in the kitchen. There’s not much she can do for me while the term is under way, and if she’s bored, she’s prone to get into trouble.”

“That’s probably a wise decision,” Hermione commended and Harry grinned. Coming from her, it was a huge compliment. 

\--

The rest of the journey went by peacefully and before they knew it, it was time to change into their robes. When Hermione returned to the compartment, she had Ginny with her.

“Hey, year mates,” the younger girl greeted them cheerfully, making her brother grumble under his breath. She just laughed and turned to Harry.

“So, Harry, how’s the rest of your summer been?”

Right after the end of the war, Harry had spent quite a few weeks at the Burrow. He had been reluctant at first, arguing that he didn’t want to intrude on the family as they were mourning the death of Fred, George’s twin, but everyone had told him in unison, that he was very, very welcome and that they’d be delighted to have him, seeing that he was a family member. That had, of course, led to some tears, but in the end Harry had acquiesced and had fared well with that decision.

Going back to the Dursley’s home in Little Whinging had been out of question and, as the events of the last year caught up with Harry once he came to rest, he was grateful not to be cooped up in his new house, alone with a borderline alcoholic house-elf.

“It was great. Winky proved to be quite adept with the renovation. She’s been a huge help, and we made lots of progress.” Harry turned to Ron, raising an eyebrow, when he heard him groaning beside him. “Am I boring you?”

“Hmm, no, but listening to every little detail once again isn’t necessary…”

“I wasn’t intending to go into details--” Harry started to explain himself only to be interrupted by Hermione.

“Ron is being a git and you don’t have to apologize for answering Ginny’s question.”

“I’m not--” Ron tried to defend himself.

“Hush! You’re impossible, Ron. You’re just jealous that Harry’s got something to tell. Unlike you who’s been moping around the house for weeks, asking when the end of the holidays would come already. – He’s been missing you terribly, you know, Hermione.” The last part was stage whispered to the other girl, making it impossible to miss.

Ron blushed promptly.

“I was not moping!”

“You were too!” Ginny insisted. “And he’s been driving everyone insane, telling the same stories over and over again. Stories that involved you, of course,” she added, before she pointedly looked at Ron. “So you’re really not in the position to tell Harry off…apart from it being rude anyway.”

Rolling his eyes, Ron said, “Sorry, Mum.”

“Apologize to Harry,” Ginny ordered her older brother.

“Sorry, Harry.”

Harry smirked. “You’re forgiven, son.”

“I’d like to remind you that I’m older than you!” Ron said indignantly. He couldn’t stand it, when one of his siblings and his best friend ganged up on him.

“That might be the case, but, since you called Ginny ‘Mum’, that makes me ‘Dad’,” Harry said patiently, his calm tone upsetting Ron further.

To Ron’s utmost annoyance, not even his girlfriend took his side. Hermione was too busy laughing to come to his rescue.

\--

Ron, Harry and Neville had moved into their new dorm room. They would have preferred to keep their old one, but since there were only three of them this year and all other years consisted of more male Gryffindors, it had only seemed logical that they would leave the slightly larger room to someone else. 

Maybe it was for the better, seeing that Seamus had died and Dean couldn’t face to come back to a school without his best friend by his side, Harry had reasoned for himself. Having to settle in into another room would hopefully help them deal with the harsh truth that they were all what was left of the males from their year.

“At least all of the girls are back,” Harry said pensively when they had decided on who would get which of the beds, each of them now being busy to unpack their belongings. “I don’t think I’d have been able to come to terms with one more of us missing.”

“Yes, me too,” Neville assented. Then he sighed. “But it’s still hard to think that Seamus is indeed gone.”

Ron hummed. 

“Oh. Oh, Ron, I’m so sorry. What a stupid thing to say, seeing that you’ve lost your brother…” Neville trailed off, afraid to make it worse if he continued speaking.

“No, it’s fine. You’re right. It _is_ strange just being housed with you and Harry,” Ron said, trying to reassure his friend. Neville was so used of putting his foot in his mouth that he tended to put too much weight on every word that he said. Usually, nowadays he was more worried about an innocent comment than the person he’d been addressing.

“Hmm, I’m still sorry, though,” Neville muttered, turning away to tend to his herbology books. He always sorted them by topic, making his roommates wonder how he could remember all those details.

Ron merely shook his head. When Neville was in that mood it was impossible to make him see reason. He was just going to save himself the trouble of trying. There were times Harry did the same.

“It’s still a shame, though, that some others didn’t opt to stay away.”

“Are you talking about Malfoy?” Harry looked up from his trunk which he had been searching for his potions book. How the hell could this thing have disappeared on him? He swore he had held it in his hands just the previous night.

“You can bet I’m talking about Malfoy. And every other Death Eater scum that dares to show his face in public so soon after the war,” Ron huffed.

“But not everyone with Death Eaters for parents is one, themselves,” Harry objected. Where was that bloody book? He had rummaged through his stuff twice now and there was no sign of it. He was already getting a stiff neck from being hunched over his trunk for so long.

Forcibly banging the book he had held in his hand on the bedside table, Ron sniffed. “Why do I not believe you? That’s exactly what they want us to believe!”

“Who wants us to believe anything? I’m sure McGonagall and the other professors made sure that everyone roaming these halls this year is not a potential threat to anyone.”

“You’ve always been far too trusting,” Ron accused him.

“Why? Because I refuse to judge everyone by who their parents are?” Harry snapped. “If you’d like to recall all the times Snape did that with me, you might also remember how we despised him for his stupid prejudices!”

“Well, he used to hate your dad with a passion, so it’s only natural that he wanted to say only the worst about him. And, after all, you haven’t been raised by your parents, have you, and so they can’t have influenced you that much.”

Ron’s last comment irked Harry for various reasons.

“Snape’s been a git for years and for no reason, if you ask me. Even if that rumours, about him having been in love with my Mum, are true, that didn’t give him the right to take out his frustrations on me. And yes, I haven’t been raised by my parents. How considerate of you to remind me. Besides, what are you trying to say? If I had lived with my father I would have turned out like a spoiled brat just like him?” At the end of his tirade Harry was almost yelling, by now having completely forgotten about his potions book.

“Whoa, wait, wait! What are you getting at, calling your father a spoiled brat?” Ron asked incredulously.

“I’m just telling you the truth! I’m proud of whom my parents were, but there’s no denying that he was an insufferable idiot in his teenage years.”

“Aw, mate, who told you those lies?” There was definitely pity in Ron’s eyes and Harry wanted to smack him for it.

“Can’t tell…”

“That just proves my point. Forget about them and remember that your parents were heroes.”

Well, that had been the wrong thing to say. Harry growled, making Neville’s eyes dart around the room, seemingly searching for some place to hide should Ron and he come to blows.

“Yes, they were! But they were also human and had their faults like everyone else! Believe me, I do know only too well.”

Ron ran out of steam under Harry’s glowering gaze. He had to know that, if he kept provoking him, he wouldn’t like the comeback. 

“Listen, Harry, I’ve got no idea where we got our wires crossed, but you’ve got to rethink your attitude. Lily and James don’t deserve their son thinking badly about them,” he said reasonably, struggling to keep his voice down.

Harry heaved a sigh. “That I believe…” He scratched his head, contemplating his options. In the end he decided that Ron might never be able to understand what he was talking about since he was unable to hand him some proof. He knew he’d never be able to betray Snape and tell anyone about what he’d seen in his Pensieve two years ago. The man had been livid then and, the more time passed since the incident, Harry regretted his mistake more and more. Anyways, he was well aware that, if he didn’t want to get into a fully grown fight with his best friend, it was better to let go of that particular topic.

\--

Neville had to wait quite a while until Ron was done slamming that poor, defenceless book around and Harry gave up his search. He resolved to call Winky later on and ask her to return home and look in his study. The book had to be somewhere after all. 

The Welcoming Feast would be a tense affair for the Gryffindor eighth years. Although they entered the Great Hall together, they were far from being united. Harry was glad when he saw Ginny already sitting at the table, keeping a seat for him. Making sure that Neville had found a place for himself, he gratefully sank down beside her. Ron could fend for himself as far as Harry was concerned.

Of course he couldn’t help but watch out of the corner of his eye as he went to join Hermione a few metres down the table. Usually they made sure to sit close to each other.

As the Sorting was well under way, Ginny leaned toward Harry.

“What’s wrong with you and my beloved sibling?”

“Phew, I’m not sure. Well, okay, I am sure but I don’t think it’s a good idea to discuss it now,” Harry answered. He’d love to vent to Ginny, but complaining to her about Ron’s idiocies almost always felt wrong. Not that it happened that often, of course. Ron wasn’t his best friend for nothing. It was just sometimes that Harry wondered why Neville was the one always being worried about how people reacted to what he said – when Ron was the one who should be more concerned.

She chuckled. There was nothing he could tell her about Ron that would shock her. She’d been living with that boy for all her life and not only with him, but with five more brothers. Ginny was a tough girl and could deal with almost anything without batting an eye.

“As you wish, Harry. But I hope you do know that I’m always here if you need me,” she offered, probably in case Harry was only acting out of concern for her feelings.

“He…” Harry started and sighed. “He said some pretty superfluous and stupid things about my heritage. At least I think so,” he added upon seeing Ginny’s eyes widen in surprise.

“You got me wrong,” she corrected him immediately. “I’ve got no problem imagining him saying something stupid. What I don’t get is why you guys would talk about something like that. What about Neville? Was he participating in the conversation?”

Ginny had always had, and probably would always have, a sweet spot for kind, shy Neville Longbottom, and Harry couldn’t fault her for it. He felt quite the same way.

“No, he was busy sorting his books. – It all started with Ron mentioning Malfoy and the other junior Death Eaters, as he likes to call them. I tried to tell him that, just because their parents made some pretty idiotic choices in their lives, it doesn’t mean the respective children will automatically follow their example.”

“Yes, okay.” Ginny nodded. “I get your point and I happen to think the same way. We’re our own people and not some replications of our parents. What was it that Ron saw differently?”

Harry thought for a moment. “He seems to think that you are, indeed, the same as your parents. Or maybe he just thinks that when it fits his views. Ugh!” Harry ran his fingers through his hair, effectively ruining what had remotely looked like a hairstyle before. Hermione wouldn’t be pleased when she noticed that he had ruined her work.

“What he did say, though, was that, since I never lived with my parents, they had not much influence on how I turned out.”

Ginny blinked. “Now that was a rather…inept comment. And you told him so and he didn’t want to hear it, right?” she guessed.

“That, too,” Harry conceded. “But I also mentioned that I don’t think it worthwhile to be like my father in his teenage years…”

“Why in Merlin’s name not?” Ginny exclaimed, making half of the student body looking at them. “Ooops.”

Harry flinched. And there was the reason why he had wanted to forego that conversation during dinner. He didn’t need everybody’s attention drawn to a private conversation he was having with his girlfriend…or whatever she was at the moment.

But that was an issue for another day. And he’d make certain that no living soul besides the both of them would be present when they would start to sort that out.

“Thanks ever so much…” Harry mumbled. 

“What was that?”

“Nothing. – But you don’t know what kind of person my father was at school, do you?” He tried making her see things his way.

“No, I don’t. But unfortunately, so do you. And that’s why I think we’ve got to listen to the accounts of those we trust, hmm? And everyone’s been saying how brave, fearless and talented he was. Why would you not want to be like that? He does count as a positive role model, I’d wager.”

Once again Harry was sorely tempted to reveal his source, but again he decided against it. But, to think that the Headmaster and their Transfigurations Professor told them whatever stories they had shared without a hint of bias was pretty naïve. They might not have done it deliberately, but they both did tend to favour the Gryffindors – and that was what the Potters had been.

One the other hand, the memory in the Pensieve had been the unmasked truth.

And why was it that everyone felt the need to remind him that he had no clue about his parents?

As if she’d been able to read his thoughts, Ginny continued.

“Now, please don’t be angry, okay? All I’m saying is that you can’t be sure, if whatever you’ve been told is a more honest representation of the past than what we knew before,” Ginny told him calmly, picking up her fork again. When the students sitting near them noticed that the show was over, one by one they resumed their own conversations.

Harry tried to stab the food on his plate to death. Sadly, the peas refused to be killed and kept rolling away.

“I’m not saying that Ron’s right, either, in case you’ve been wondering,” she added.

“Hmm.” Harry shrugged. He was sick of trying to explain himself, since it was rather obvious that Ginny and Ron would never be able to understand what he was talking about. They knew their parents, had lived with them for all their lives, and could easily check with trait was from with parent and who had been influenced by whom. So how should they know what it was like, having to relate to hearsay when it came to your roots?

Regarding Harry’s father, he vowed to not bring up his negative sides anymore. Whenever someone demanded some proof or asked for the name of the person who provided that kind of information, he would never be able to give an answer. So why bother?

As Harry was pouting into his glass, someone squeezed themselves into the narrow space between him and Ginny, making him slosh his pumpkin juice all over his meal. Not that he intended to actually eat it.

“Hey!” 

“Listen, Harry, Ron just told me what happened in your room and I’ve got no doubt that you’ve been complaining to Ginny about the same thing. I’m also sure that both versions sounded totally different. But, could the both of you do please me a favour and stop arguing on our first night back? Hmm? We should celebrate to be alive and back at school where we wanted to be during the last year…and not waste our time, fighting.” Hermione looked at him beseechingly. 

“Did he get the same speech?”

“Of course he did.” She smiled at him and took out her wand, banishing the mess on the table, including Harry’s food.

“That was my dinner,” Harry complained half-heartedly.

“Well, you didn’t seem interested in eating it anyway,” Hermione gave back. “Besides, no one’s stopping you from taking seconds. – Now. Are we agreed?”

Harry thought for a moment. Hermione was right, he decided. They had enough drama in their earlier school years to last twenty people for a lifetime. Why prolong it artificially? And if Ron was willing to make an effort, certainly he could try to do the same thing?

“Okay,” Harry said grudgingly. Somehow he had imagined a different start of the year, but the contented expression on his friend’s face was more than rewarding.

She linked her arm through his and leaned her head against his shoulder. Ginny looked up and frowned.

“Uh, do you realize that you’re snuggling up to the wrong guy?”

Hermione answered by rolling her eyes and Ginny scowled. 

“Your boyfriend’s sitting a few seats down. And he’s not happy.”

“Oh, he’s happy, he just doesn’t know how to smile at the moment,” Hermione said. “He’s like that every time I’m forced to explain something to him.”

Sometimes, Harry wondered about the relationships between his friends. 

\--

The next morning, Ron went over to Harry’s bed to wake him when he wasn’t up by the time he and Neville wanted to go down to the Great Hall. 

“Harry! Wake up, it’s high time for us to go to breakfast,” he called, reaching for the curtains surrounding the bed. They didn’t move. “Hey! What are you doing in there?”

No sound could be heard from the inside until suddenly Harry’s voice rang out.

“I’ll be down soon. You guys go ahead!”

“If you’re wanking, get a move on! I’m sure Snape’s not going to be understanding if you’re going to be late for class,” Ron reminded him and Neville chuckled.

“Now you ruined the mood.”

“Sorry, Harry!” Ron said, clearly not sorry at all, and pulled Neville out of the room, both of them laughing like maniacs.

Inside the cocoon of his bed, Harry rolled his eyes. Sometimes he wondered if they really were adults. That thought included him, of course, and so he couldn’t blame them. But surely seventeen year-old boys shouldn’t act this childish all the time.

He glanced down his body to the cock in his hand. Ron’s comment had almost cost him his erection, but now that he was finally alone, it quickly recovered.

Oh, how he missed the solitude of his home. There were some advantages to being able to do what you wanted whenever you wanted. He’d have to think of a way to invite Ginny to the house without driving her mother into an early grave. She had nothing against them being involved but she didn’t like to know them being alone. Somehow, she’d never been that protective when it had come to Ron and Hermione. And now that they were adults, she was even more relaxed.

Mr Weasley never said much on the issue; he seemed to trust Harry not to impregnate his daughter at the first opportunity.

Damn, now his erection was really gone. Harry gave his cock a few tentative tugs, hoping to regain its interest, but somehow the thoughts of pregnancy and the elder Weasleys had put it off irrecoverably.

\--

“Oh, look who’s found his way here,” a cold voice drawled behind Harry’s back when he was about to enter the Great Hall. He turned around, expecting to see the familiar sneer of Malfoy, and was surprised at what he saw.

Of course the voice belonged to Malfoy – Harry would recognize it among thousands. But his expression was not what he had expected. Malfoy looked more…well-adjusted than ever before.

“It wasn’t that hard. I just followed my nose,” he quipped, curious on what kind of reaction he’d get.

“Oh, congratulations on succeeding for once. You must be so pleased,” Malfoy said, lacking his usual bite. He nodded at Harry and turned away, stalking towards the dungeons.

Harry’s eyes followed him until he disappeared from view. Now that had been a truly strange encounter. Harry chalked it up on it being too early in the morning for everyone to function properly (not that Malfoy ever had problems coming up with suitable insults) and proceeded on his way to breakfast.

\--

Since it had taken Harry longer to get down to the Great Hall than he had intended, he only had enough time to gulp down some juice and inhale two slices of toast. While that wasn’t satisfactory, it would get him through the morning. He’d just have to ensure that lunch would be a bit more extensive today, he thought while he was hurrying to his first class.

At least he wasn’t famished like he used to be after the holidays when he spent them with his loving relatives. A year ago one missed meal had been a catastrophe. Harry marvelled at the fact of how much better his life was now.

“Why do you look so happy when there’s two hours of torture ahead?” Ron asked after glancing in both directions, making sure his comment wouldn’t get overheard by the wrong people.

Harry shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. “I’ve just been thinking about something. It’s got nothing to do with classes.”

“Phew, I wish I could think of something different. Anything would be better, really,” Ron whined. He was still miffed, that, in order to get admitted to Auror training, he had to attend that class for another year. Whoever came up with that regulation clearly had never spent two hours with Snape.

“It’s not going to be that bad,” Hermione chimed in. “I’m sure now that the war is over, Professor Snape’s going to change his attitude in class to adapt to the new circumstances.”

“You think he’s going to be benign from now on? To everyone, even the Gryffindors? Nah, won’t ever happen.” Ron shook his head vehemently.

Harry was bound to agree with him on that. Snape was a bitter, unhappy person and nothing would make him change his behaviour. A won war was no exception. Well, if one assumed that he’d been merely cruel and nasty to keep up appearances, helping him cement his position within the ranks of Voldemort’s henchmen, then one might expect him to change his ways now. But, as far as Harry was concerned, that way of thinking only led to disappointment.

“You two won’t ever accept that he was one of the pillars of the light side, will you?” Hermione looked kind of frazzled. She’d been trying so often to convince them, but they just didn’t want to see reason. Harry knew that it bothered her. He was also aware that Snape had helped them and that he owed him this thanks, but he’d never agree that there might be more to the man than what was obvious. And Ron was even worse. As much as Snape liked to proclaim his dislike of the lions, Ron was just as stubborn in his hate of the snakes. She sighed. “Men…”

“What was that?” Ron asked, instantly suspicious.

Hermione was never someone to back down from a challenge. If she had an opinion she was always willing to speak her mind and so she leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms in front of her and glared at Ron.

“I said ‘men…’, because I can’t believe how terribly pigheaded you guys are. And yes, that includes the both of you and the Professor. I just hope someday you’re going to get a wakeup call and then you’ll see that you’ve been wrong all the while. I just hope I’ll be there, so I can say ‘I told you so’.”

“I’m looking forward to it, Miss Granger,” a cold voice said behind them, making them all sit up straighter. Hermione flinched.

“I’m so sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to sound disrespectful,” she tried to save face.

“Of course not,” Snape said silkily, before he raised his voice and addressed his students, welcoming them to another year and adding his usual threats.

\--

When they went to the desk to hand in the vials containing their potions, Ron nudged Harry.

“Hey, did you notice that Malfoy, the ponce, has resorted to wearing gloves 24/7 now? I thought I’d seen him wear them last night during dinner, but I couldn’t be sure. Besides, while it would have been laughable, he might have gotten away with it – if one counted the Welcoming feast a formal occasion. But during classes?” Ron snorted. “That just backs up what I said yesterday, doesn’t it? Obviously he’s rapidly morphing into his father.”

 

Harry blinked and fought the urge to bang his head against the nearest wall. “Is this your new obsession? Just tell me now, so I can adjust to it in a timely manner.”

“It’s no obsession, I’m just making observations,” Ron protested. “I’m not obsessive about anything except… Uh…” 

Harry wanted to roll his eyes. No, Ron wasn’t obsessive about anything besides Hermione. And even though he was seeing her all the time now, he still wasn’t happy with the situation. Obviously, he wanted her for himself. Maybe he should suggest that they went and found themselves a secluded meeting place. Though she was Head Girl and in the lucky position of having her own room, it was still located in the Gryffindor dorms. Somehow, Ron wasn’t keen on sharing the details of his relationship with his whole house.

“And we’re going to have to listen to them for the whole bloody year, right?” Harry asked to be sure.

“Well, if you don’t want to know what I have to say, I’m going to keep it to myself from now on, no problem,” Ron huffed, hurt.

“No, that’s not what I meant to say,” Harry corrected himself. Okay, it was exactly what he had meant to say, but he didn’t want to hurt his friend. Besides, being ignorant of ones surroundings could prove to be a lethal mistake. Maybe Ron was truly on to something. Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance to say so.

“Potter, Weasley! Don’t want to part with your potions? I can’t imagine they’re that good. Hand them over, I wouldn’t want to pry them forcefully out of your grip,” Snape demanded, gesturing impatiently toward their vials.

Harry turned around, noticing thankfully that no other students were waiting behind them, having overheard every word they’d been saying.

“Not to the air, give that thing to me if you want to have it marked. I won’t ask again,” the Professor clarified when Harry failed to obey his demand.

Harry hurriedly put his vial down on the teacher’s desk and went back to his table, grabbing his bag. Ron was a few steps ahead of him.

“Wait for me,” he begged his friend, who gained ground.

Ron nodded, but motioned to the door where Hermione was waiting for them.

\--

“Are you and Ron still fighting?” Ginny asked during lunch. Harry lost his appetite.

“No, we’re not. By the way, he’s found something to prove his theory.”

“Oh?” She perked up, instantly interested. “And now you believe him?”

Harry shrugged. “Well, no, not really. But I think he’s right in his assumption that it can’t hurt to stay vigilant to any changes.”

“Constant vigilance,” she cited and chuckled. “It’s been a while that I heard that.”

“I’d rather we didn’t have to live after that credo…”

Ginny’s face fell. “Hmm. So what did he find out?”

“Malfoy’s wearing gloves. As it seems, he’s never putting them off. Ron saw him last night during the feast and this morning in Potions he pointed it out to me. Anyways, who does this remind you of?”

“Malfoy senior,” she replied readily. “He’s really a carbon copy of that git. How embarrassing. I wouldn’t want to be like him!”

“Me too. But maybe he’s different in private?” Harry surmised. “I mean, he’s obviously quite strict, expecting the best marks, but do you see him torturing his son?”

“Not personally, but I think pushing your child to You-Know-Who is basically the same. One way or another, I’m sure he only wants him to function the way he expects him to. No opposition wanted. And I think if Malfoy ever dares to open his mouth out of line, his father turns nasty. And we all know what that man is capable of.”

“Why are you two lovebirds wasting valuable time discussing Malfoy?” Lavender enquired from Ginny’s right.

“We’re not,” Harry put straight. “We’re just talking about something Ron told me today.”

“Yes, so I’ve heard. And it concerns Malfoy.”

“But we’re not interested in Malfoy. We’re discussing more general things. It’s not my fault if that goes over your head.”

“Hey! Did I do something to you? There’s no need to be rude,” Lavender answered back, glowering at the other girl. 

“You were butting in on our conversation and also tried to tell us what to talk about. Stop listening in when other people are talking and we’re fine!” Ginny hissed, rolling her eyes. Ever since Lavender almost ruined the budding relationship between Ron and Hermione, she was weary of her. No need to take any risks by exposing herself and Harry to her. 

She poked Harry in the ribs, hissing quietly, “Say something!”

Taking a deep breath, Harry opened his mouth. But instead of defending her to his year mate, he returned to their earlier topic. Ginny pouted, probably because, in her opinion, he should have acted more gallantly. 

“Well, what I was about to say is that we’re no part of their family and most things look differently from various points of view. So I think it’s hard to be sure.”

“Huh?”

Harry had watched Ginny’s growing smirk when Lavender had turned away, seemingly having taken the hint. Ginny had looked happy enough, having reached her goal and put her off. But unfortunately, that had prevented her from listening to him. 

“You haven’t heard a word I just said, have you? Okay, again: I was just saying, that everyone’s different in private and we’ve got no proof what kind of father Malfoy senior is. So we can’t be sure why Malfoy would want to copy him,” Harry repeated dutifully.

“But you agree that he’s copying him?”

“It certainly looks that way,” Harry admitted regretfully. He still didn’t want to believe it but lacked the evidence to prove her wrong. “But he’s only been wearing the gloves for a day now. I think we’ve got to watch him a bit longer to count it as evidence.”

\--

The rest of the day passed by without any more notable incidents and Harry was happy to see his bed that night. Who’d have thought that being at school would be so exhausting? It was at times like this that he wondered if he had made the right decision, opting to continue his education. 

He was able to keep house – if it came to using Muggle means, he actually was a pro. That he was able to defend himself efficiently went without question. Everything else wasn’t that important in his eyes. As long as you knew where to look for the answers, you didn’t have to go through the trouble and learn things like Potions by heard. Well, maybe if there was an emergency and you didn’t have the time to consult your books, but for some reason Harry couldn’t see that happen.

So why had he come back?

Well, Harry, though having been occupied for sixteen to eighteen hours a day, had missed his friends during the last weeks and being in school meant being close to them. It meant not having to solely rely on a batty house-elf for conversation. It meant having some structure in his day. And, above all, being at Hogwarts gave him a small reprieve from having to act like an adult – even it was just for ten more months. Harry vowed to make the best of it.

“Neville, can I see your notes from Herbology?” Ron asked, still bent over his own, sketchy notes. 

“If you had paid attention instead of staring at Hermione during class…”

“Do you have any idea how she looks when she’s about to puzzle together some arguments?” Apparently, Ron didn’t have a bad conscience.

“What arguments? There was nothing wrong with Professor Sprout’s lesson,” Neville replied, frowning. Yet he was already searching his bag for his notes.

“No,” Ron agreed readily. “It didn’t have anything to do with today’s classes. It was about what she’s heard during lunch break.”

“What did she hear?” Harry chimed in. He wasn’t one of the school’s blabbermouths, but he loved gossip as much as the next student. Plus, he had just decided that he needed to be kept up to date.

“This is off the record, understand?” Ron waited for their nods before he continued, “It seems that Malfoy has been assigned his own rooms. And since, usually, that privilege is only granted to the Head students, she’s understandably peeved. He’s done nothing to deserve it and yet everything turns out to his advantage. I wonder who he’s had to bribe.”

“Has she already seen the Headmistress about it?” Neville asked, looking slightly bored. Like Harry, he had obviously been waiting for juicier news.

Ron nodded. “We’re talking about Hermione, of course she has,” he said with unmistakable proud. 

“And?” Harry wanted him to get to the point already. Ron was enjoying that situation far too much, considering that it was nothing that interesting. Someone got their own room. Big fucking deal. Didn’t the Slytherin upper years share their rooms with only one other student anyway? There was so little of them that it was no problem to house them in pairs. Plus, as far as Harry was concerned, getting a single dorm was nothing to be happy about.

“McGonagall confirmed it but refused to tell her anything more. Apparently, something came up that made it necessary to separate him from his housemates and it’s strictly confidential.”

“Phew, yes, okay…” Neville thrust some parchment at Ron. “Here you go.”

“Oh, right. Thank you!”

“No problem. But if your better half is too busy to pay attention in class, maybe you should have done the honours and taken notes for once…” Neville muttered under his breath, though loud enough for Ron to pick up the underlying insult.

“You’re just jealous because you’re still single,” he accused.

“How do you know whether I’m single?”

“You’re not?”

Harry perked up at Ron’s question. That promised to be interesting. Now that he thought about it, he had never seen Neville with a significant other, but being a young man, surely he hadn’t been on his own all those years.

“No, I’m not,” Neville stated before closing the curtains around his bed, leaving Harry and Ron on the other side, flabbergasted. How could they have missed this?

\--

Over the following weeks, Harry and his friends tried, more or less successfully, to get accustomed to their student lives. After almost a year of making their own decisions and being used to live in constant danger, it was hard for them to resign themselves to be the responsibility of their professors. If course, being legal adults, they enjoyed more freedom than in their sixth year, but it still felt quite constricting from time to time.

Hermione was the one with the fewest difficulties in submitting to the rules of the school. Being Head Girl, she was responsible to enforce them with others and that, additionally, made her feel less helpless. 

Ron tried his very best to make life easy for his girlfriend. At the beginning he had encountered some issues, but when they had found a nice, secluded classroom for their extracurricular activities, he grew notably calmer.

Harry was the only one who, a month into term, was still feeling restless and caged. He tried to do the same as his friends, having gone as far and asked Ron for directions of where to go when he wanted to have some privacy with Ginny, but it hadn’t helped much. They had claimed another, obviously long forgotten classroom, but the right mood hadn’t come up all the times they met there. 

A few weeks ago, their relationship had been wonderful. Sneaking out of her room under the watchful eyes of her parents had been exciting; dodging her brothers’ curious questions had been extra fun. They used to think differently, of course, but now Harry wondered if the lack of thrill was what made the difference. But could that actually be true? 

He and Ginny had started dating a long time ago. Then, when he, Ron and Hermione had gone searching for the Horcruxes, he had missed her and his life as it had been, terribly, dreaming every night of past times. So, naturally, they had picked up where they had left off the second the war had ended – only to be disappointed. Well, Harry was disappointed since he had imagined something else – he was reluctant to call it better. He couldn’t speak for Ginny, but was afraid that he would have to voice his doubts sooner or later.

If it had been anyone else, he would have opened his mouth weeks ago. It being Ginny, though, he was afraid of the changes his life would take should they decide to break up. He hadn’t started the relationship because she was a member of his quasi adopted family, but he was scared to lose them when it turned out that he wasn’t the perfect son/brother in law that they had expected him to be.

Every time he caught himself pondering about these questions, he rebuked himself for being so pessimistic. So far no one had told him that he and Ginny wouldn’t last and therefore there was no reason for him to think so. Those times, he imagined himself in thirty years time, sitting side by side with Ginny and watching one of their three kids get married. That thought never failed to make him smile and helped him to push back any lingering doubts.

\--

The Malfoy issue had been in the back of his mind, not forgotten but ignored, for weeks, when they met near the Quidditch pitch. Harry was on his way to practice and Malfoy was on his way back to the changing rooms, looking rosy-cheeked and all sweaty.

There was no special reason why he did so, but while they were passing each other, Harry’s gaze wandered from Malfoy’s features to his brand-new broom and from there to the hand that was holding it.

He wore gloves.

That wasn’t an unusual sight since he had dismounted his broom mere minutes ago. But while he had every reason to wear them at that very moment, it made Harry remember that he had seen him himself from time to time and was no longer relying on Ron’s account.

Suddenly he couldn’t resist and, keeping his eyes downcast, he asked, “Is there any reason why you’re wearing gloves constantly?”

“Are you talking to me, Scarhead?” Malfoy inquired in his usual charming manner.

“Well, most of the student body aren’t prancing around in gloves so, yes.”

Malfoy’s glanced at Harry’s own hand, clutching his broom. He gestured to it with his free hand and raised an eyebrow. “You were saying?”

“I’m wearing my uniform, those are no part of my daily outfit,” Harry said, annoyed that Malfoy had easily caught on to the fault in his argumentation.

“Well, so are mine,” Malfoy told him and left him standing.

Harry rolled his eyes, mostly at his own stupidity, and resumed his way to the pitch.

“Harry, there you are! I thought you were right behind me,” Ron exclaimed, meeting him half way. “What kept you?”

“Malfoy.”

“What did that git do now? I swear, if he starts with his old ways, I’m going to have him expelled. One way or another. I’m so sick of the shit he keeps pulling…” he seethed, turning an angry red.

Ron had also stopped talking about Malfoy every chance he got, but now that Harry mentioned him, he gladly resumed his triads against the other young man. Now that no one had to fear his father’s retribution, maybe now the teachers would be willing to do something about that bully. Ron said as much, but to his obvious surprise Harry just shook his head.

“He did nothing wrong. I addressed him.”

“Why would you do that?” Ron looked taken aback. There was an implied rule in Gryffindor: if a snake ignored you, you did your best to avoid them back.

“I was asking about the gloves,” Harry defended himself. He didn’t get why Ron was that agitated because he had exchanged a few words with Malfoy. Surely it wasn’t outright forbidden to talk with a schoolmate, no matter what house he was in. And that ‘No talking to Slytherins’ rule was stupid anyway. If you were partnered with one for an assignment you were forced to communicate. If a teacher, who was a former Slytherin, addressed you, you answered. 

Harry failed to see the difference.

“The gloves? But why? Now he knows that he’s being watched and will make sure that we don’t catch his evil plans,” Ron said, clearly unhappy with Harry. 

And Harry once more found himself apologizing against his better knowledge.

“So what did he say?” 

“Now you want to know? Didn’t you just imply that I made a huge mistake, asking him?”

“Well… No, not necessarily. I guess it depends,” Ron conceded, looking chagrined. Apparently, Harry wasn’t the only one who had noticed that, the older they got, the more they had to work on their friendship. While they had been kids, it had been easier to come to an agreement. Now, with their often contrary opinions, they had to make sure that, despite them, they valued their relationship.

“He left me standing.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, of course. He’s Malfoy. I asked a totally polite question and he threw it back in my face and sauntered away. You know.”

Ron shook his head and chuckled. “Yes, I know. Swaying hips and everything. He’s walking like a girl. – No matter, mate, sooner or later we’ll find out what’s wrong with him,” he promised, throwing his arm around Harry’s shoulders and accompanying him the last few steps onto the pitch. They mounted their brooms and shot off, joining their team-mates in the air.

\--

One Saturday night in late October, Harry and Ginny snuck out of the common room, kindly ignored by Hermione, and went in search of a secluded corner. They didn’t feel like being among their housemates, all of them throwing curious glances in their direction.

They ruled out the corridor leading to the Gryffindor tower, deciding that it would be provoking their luck if they did something right under the Head Girl’s nose. Not that she would want to find them, but she could only look the other way every so often. So they were steadily making their way downwards.

Ginny was pulling Harry down yet another corridor, by now nearing the dungeons, when they heard voices. Ginny stopped dead in her tracks and turned to Harry.

“One of them sounds like Neville,” she whispered.

Harry nodded though it was unlikely that she could see him in the dim light. “Yes. And the girl’s most likely Hannah. Who’d have thought…?”

Ginny giggled into her hand. “Oh, that’s so exciting! I can’t wait to tell the others.”

Unlike her, Harry couldn’t find anything funny about the situation. If he were Neville, he’d be furious if he were found out like that. So he grabbed Ginny’s arm and pulled her back around a corner before he hissed quietly, “You will do no such thing!”

“But Harry, we finally know who he’s seeing!” 

“Yes, but we shouldn’t. It’s only official when he decides to tell us,” Harry said firmly. “Look, you know how everyone is acting this year, right? We try so hard to get everything back to normal and to do so, we’re more interested than ever in things like budding relationships and such. Unfortunately, sometimes, in our over-eagerness, we forget that everybody deserves a little privacy. It’s why we left the common room tonight, right? We wanted to escape all the curious and knowing glances.”

“Hmm,” she grumbled.

“Not fun, I know, but I still think that we should keep it to ourselves. It’ll be much appreciated,” Harry added.

“But he won’t even know that we kept our mouths shut, will he?”

“No, he won’t. But I don’t need his thanks for something that should be understood.”

Ginny sighed resignedly. “Okay. I know you’re right. And I understand that you have to react that way, seeing that everyone’s watching your every move since you set foot into the wizarding world. I think this is why you are so protective of everyone’s privacy. You try to do for them what you were hoping people would do for you.” She stepped closer to him, wrapping her arms around him.

“You did. You guys helped a lot over the years,” Harry hastened to reassure her, hugging her close to him.

“We tried and failed more often than not. – So, Mr Potter, where do we go to? Please don’t say you want to get back already?”

“Oh no, of course not! We just escaped, we should make some use of the night,” Harry replied, taking a look around them to ensure that there was no one around. A short distance away he could still hear the subdued voices of Neville and Hannah.

“I’ve got an idea,” Ginny said, her eyes gleaming. “I heard the Snape’s on duty to patrol the halls tonight. So I think the safest option would be in the dungeons, don’t you think? He’s not assuming that someone will run around there, right under his nose.”

“Good reasoning,” Harry conceded and followed her.

\--

During breakfast the next day Ron asked Harry if he had already heard the latest rumours.

“What is it this time?” Harry asked, only mildly curious. In a school with hundreds of students there was always something or other happening and, mostly, it was rather boring to everyone except the ones directly involved.

“Neville and Hannah Abbott seem to be an item,” Ron revealed.

Harry heart stopped a moment. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself before he asked, more harshly than he had intended,” Who told you?”

“Huh? Mate, did you know and forgot to tell your best friend about it? That’s hardly fair,” Ron complained.

“Not the point, Ron. Who told you?” Harry repeated, trying to hang on to his temper. If Ginny said anything to anyone, things would get nasty. He didn’t really believe that she would go behind his back, but he couldn’t be sure until he asked her. His eyes already scanned the lines of students entering the Great Hall, waiting for her to make an appearance.

“I heard some Slytherins talking when I passed their table. – Why are you so pissed about it? I’d have thought you would be happy for him?”

“I am over the moon that he’s found someone, believe me,” Harry snapped, getting up when he saw Ginny walk through the door. “Excuse me for a moment.”

“Harry?” Hermione put a hand on his arm, trying to stop him. She had been talking to Parvati, seated on her other side, but must have overheard at least parts of his conversation with Ron.

“Later.” Harry shook her off and, with a few long strides, stepped in Ginny’s way. She was able to stop at the last moment before she crashed into him.

“Whoa, good morning. Did you miss me already?” she asked playfully.

Harry grunted in response and marched her out of the Great Hall, uncaring that she protested all the way.

“What’s wrong with you today?” Ginny yelled when they came to a stop a few feet from the door.

“Did you tell anyone about Neville?”

“What? No!”

“Are you certain?”

“Are you deaf? I already told you that I didn’t say anything,” Ginny said angrily. 

“Well, somebody did, because Ron just told me the good news.”

“And you automatically think of me? That’s not exactly reassuring, you know.” Ginny glared at him, crossing her arms.

Harry scratched his head. Ginny seemed sincere and if he was honest, he hadn’t really believed her to say something despite their agreement. But who had been there besides them?

“I’m sorry, I just had to know.”

Ginny huffed. “Yes. And there was no nicer way for you to ask me?” she asked, still annoyed, making Harry wince. Lately, he wondered what was wrong with his manners – or with his temper, for that matter. Harry wasn’t a naturally combative person.

“You’re right. Please forgive me,” he begged, looking at her with puppy-dog eyes.

She sniffed. 

“Gin, please, I’m really sorry. I kind of lost it when Ron asked me if I had heard of the latest gossip, the triumph of knowing something in his eyes,” Harry tried to make her understand.

“But you just said it: it’s merely gossip at the moment. No one knows if it’s true yet, do they?”

“Oh.” That was something that hadn’t occurred to him. “Good point.” Now he felt stupid.

“So let’s go to breakfast now and I expect you to make it up to me eventually,” she said, linking her arm with his. “You’re pretty easy to set off lately. Do you get enough sleep?” 

Harry thought he could detect a hint of worry in her tone. Bloody hell! It shouldn’t be like that anymore. This was supposed to be a happy, laid back year. Well, at least until the exams drew nearer. But that was months away yet.

“Well, usually I do. But last night I happened to return to my dormitory quite late. I had a date, you know,” he said in a low voice, happy when she threw him a cheeky grin.

“Oh, what a coincidence. The same happened to me,” she said, giggling.

“Forgive me?”

“Aw, I already have, you idiot,” she replied affectionately.

\--

The portrait door of the Gryffindor common room was thrown open forcefully, revealing a panting, limping fifth year. Natalie McDonald didn’t even allow the door to close behind her before she started to scream at the top of her lungs.

“Draco Malfoy has attacked Neville and they don’t know if he’s going to survive!”

Lots of items dropped to the ground because their users forgot that they even had them in hand. Almost every jaw suffered the same fate as people took in Natalie’s dishevelled state and tried to process what she’d been telling them.

Hermione stepped forward and ushered the distraught girl toward a nearby couch. 

“Sit. – Okay, what happened?”

Natalie gulped, blushing when she noticed all the gazes focused on her.

“Um…”

Hermione sat down beside her and nudged the younger girl until she picked up on what was expected of her, turning toward Hermione and talking to her instead of the whole room.

“I had to see Madam Pomfrey because I twisted my ankle when I was running up here from breakfast. Professor Sprout held me up because she wanted to ask something concerning me assignment. Anyway, I knew my friends were waiting for me – we wanted to go to Hogsmeade, and so I was in a hurry. I wasn’t paying proper attention to the steps and then it happened.” She sniffed.

Most of the Gryffindors were fidgeting by now. That girl certainly took her time. Who cared about how she had hurt her ankle when something lethal had happened to Neville?

Hermione seemed to think about the same lines, because she cut the story short. “So you were in the hospital wing, getting treated for your ankle, when Neville was brought in?”

Natalie nodded vigorously. “Yes! And he wasn’t being carried through the door, or levitated on a stretcher or something, no.” She took a deep breath for dramatic reasons. “Snape was Floo-ing him into the infirmary.”

“And then what happened?” Hermione prodded.

“She dropped everything, told me to stay out of the way. I swear she would have ordered me out but I wasn’t able to walk properly just yet--” 

“ _Natalie_! Neville?” Even Hermione’s patience was coming to an end eventually. Natalie jumped at being addressed in that tone, but she seemed to get what was expected of her. She continued with her story, adding less minor details this time.

“Snape put him on one of the beds and told Madam Pomfrey to run a test on him, telling her that it had something to do with Malfoy. He was acting really hectic, you know, and when she ran some diagnostic spell, both of them grew panicky at the result. I don’t understand all those numbers, sorry. But then she did another spell and, apparently, the result was even more devastating because that’s when Snape turned toward me and kicked me out of the room.”

“He kicked you out?” Demelza, one of Natalie’s friends, asked, outraged.

“That’s utterly beside the point,” Hermione reminded her. “I’m going to take a look at your ankle in a minute, Natalie. But for the moment: Did you hear anything else?”

“No, just that he was in a critical condition and that it was Malfoy’s fault.”

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay.” She exhaled audibly. “Let me see that foot of yours. – Harry, Ron, would you mind going to the infirmary and see if you can find out anything regarding Neville? Just don’t get in the way…”

Harry merely nodded and even Ron swallowed whatever snippy answer might have been on his lips. They nodded to Hermione and hurried out of the room which was by now resembling a beehive. The second everyone had realized that there wouldn’t be more to the story, the wildest theories of what supposedly happened were brought up and everyone was talking over each other.

\--


	2. Chapter 2

“All right, here we are,” Harry said, panting hard and trying to fill his lungs with air.

 

They had been running all the way from the common room to the hospital wing, stopping for nothing. Now they were giving themselves a few moments to calm down. It wouldn’t do to crash through the door, yelling for information. No one would tell them anything that way.

 

Ron’s face was still the colour of his hair, but his breathing was almost back to normal. He nodded to Harry and quietly knocked on the door before they entered.

 

The Headmistress, Pomfrey and Snape were gathered around what had to be Neville’s bed. On the one beside it, they detected Hannah. She was sitting on the edge of the mattress, hugging herself, with tears streaming down her face.

 

Ron went to her and wordlessly gathered her into his arms. For all his curiosity, in the time of a crisis he knew how to take himself back and be there for others.

 

Harry smiled at him, gratefully, before he reluctantly walked over to the adults, terrified of what he’d see. McGonagall sensed his approach and stepped back, allowing him to draw near the bed.

 

Neville was lying on the bed, motionless and deadly pale. There was nothing obviously wrong with him, though.

 

“What’s wrong with him?” Harry forced himself to ask after a few moments without anyone offering him an explanation.

 

“His magic is completely depleted,” Pomfrey said in a serious tone. “As a wizard, his body is used to it and he cannot live without it.”

 

“But…” Harry wanted to object, arguing that some people indeed survived without their magic. But, maybe that was a stupid thing to say and it probably depended on how you had lost yours. If Neville were in no grave danger, they wouldn’t make it appear that way.

 

“There is a tiny bit of it left over in his core, so we are hoping that his body will be able to replace it sometime. He might never be as powerful as he had been, but he would be able to live his life with almost no changes to it,” McGonagall explained.

 

“How did he lose it? Has he been in a fight?” Harry guessed. Seriously, how else should something like this happen?

 

“We cannot sure what happened exactly, but we are looking into it, I promise.” When Snape scowled at her, she continued, “We have a pretty good idea, but it is too soon to talk about it. Everything I could currently tell you would be solely based on speculation.”

 

Harry frowned. He didn’t appreciate being left in the dark. “What about her?” He gestured toward Hannah. “Did she witness what happened?”

 

McGonagall shook her head. “No, she came around the corner when it was already too late.”

 

“Too late?”

 

“Too late to help Mr Longbottom,” she elaborated.

 

Harry froze. So, Malfoy had been attacking him and no one had been there in time to help him, leaving him helpless and almost dead.

 

“Did she still see Malfoy at the crime scene?”

 

Snape, never one to be relaxed at the best of times, stiffened notably. “What? Why would you ask that?”

 

“Because we’ve been told that he’s got something to do with the… the incident,” Harry answered bravely.

 

His eyes narrowing into slits, Snape hissed, addressing no one in particular, “I hope it will be made certain that this is not turning into the latest school gossip.”

 

McGonagall nodded instantly, placing a calming hand on his arm. He shook it off angrily, moving back a few steps.

 

“I will make an announcement, Severus,” she tried to reassure the irate man. “Harry, maybe you and Mr Weasley could accompany Ms Abbott to the dungeons?”

 

“Of course, Professor,” Harry agreed. The air was positively sizzling and he decided it might be the more healthy decision to leave before it came to an explosion. Throwing one last glance at his unconscious friend, he turned to the other teenagers. When he had caught Ron’s gaze, he nodded towards the door and to his credit, Ron understood him perfectly, steering Hannah out of the room before she even noticed what was going on.

 

When the door closed behind them, Harry tried to shake the terror off but to no avail.

 

“Merlin…” he muttered. He didn’t know what to say. Hannah was crying into Ron’s chest, clearly in shock, and there was nothing he could tell her to make it better.

 

Thankfully, Ron seemed to be able to function.

 

“Come on, Hannah, we’re going to get you back to your house.”

She pulled back slightly, rubbing her eyes in a futile attempt to dry the tears and looking as if she was about to apologize.

 

“No, no, it’s fine.” Ron wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kept her close.

 

“But I left smudges on your shirt,” she said, eying the traces her makeup had left.

 

Ron waved her concern off. “I’m sure it’ll be salvageable. The house-elves are pretty efficient. – Did you and Neville have a date or why was he down in the dungeons that early on a Saturday morning?”

 

Hannah’s hand flew to her mouth. “How do you…?”

 

“Don’t worry,” Harry said. “There have been rumours but nobody knows anything for sure. We’ve just made the connection because we assumed that he was injured down there and you’ve been in the hospital wing and clearly concerned for him.”

 

She sniffled but seemed satisfied with his answer. “How did you know to come looking for him?”

 

“One of our fifth years was seeing Madam Pomfrey when Neville was brought in,” Harry explained. For a moment he wondered how she could have missed the other girl but then he remembered that it wasn’t likely that Snape had taken her with him through the Floo, making her run all the way instead. Obviously, considering the size of the castle, it had taken her a while.

 

“And she mentioned that Malfoy was the one behind the attack,” Ron chimed in. “Since he’s rarely seen outside of the dungeons lately, it was only logical that whatever happened, happened down there.”

 

That was probably the most subtle way Ron could think off to ask her for details without being too outright with his question.

 

“I don’t know what happened. I expected him to wait for me at our usual meeting point and when he didn’t turn up I went looking for him.” She choked on a bout of fresh tears.

 

Harry sidled up to them and put his arm around her waist, hoping he’d be of any help, maybe lending her some strength.

 

“Thanks,” Hannah said after a while. “When I found him, he was lying on the floor; Malfoy was bent over him and shaking him, yelling his name. I thought maybe they got into a fight and tried to pull him off. Then something strange happened. The second I touched him, he jerked back as if he’d been burned. He scrambled to his feet and ran off. I tried to wake Neville and when he didn’t show any reaction, I panicked. Then Snape appeared out of nowhere, grabbed Neville and took off into a run. I’ve never seen him move so fast…and that’s saying something since I’ve seen him in battle.”

 

Hannah’s voice had grown stronger over time and she didn’t look any longer like she was about to break down or faint any second.

 

“Hmm…” Ron thought for a moment. “And you didn’t see any signs of injuries on him? Was Malfoy pointing his wand at him? Anything?”

 

Hannah shook her head. “No, nothing like that. Well, there was a bump on his head, but I don’t know if Malfoy hit him with something or if he hurt himself while he was falling…” she mused. “His wand was nowhere in sight, I think.”

 

“You think? But no one was looking for it, right?”

 

“No, of course not. Snape was hurrying to get Neville to the infirmary and I was trying to get there as well as soon as I could,” Hannah responded, pensive. “But now that you mention it, I don’t know where Malfoy went…”

 

“Why that…” Ron swallowed what he had been about to say. And the next two attempts as well. When he did start talking again, his tone was forcibly calm. “Okay, there we are. Will one of your friends be in or are all of them going to be already halfway to Hogsmeade?”

 

“Susan planned to stay here because she wasn’t feeling well last night.”

 

“Okay. As long as you’re not going to be alone, that’s fine,” Harry said, relieved that they would be able to leave her in the care of a female friend and housemate. She’d be in very good hands with Susan and they’d be able to talk freely. Not that he thought Ron and he were second choice, but just as he didn’t want to talk about really serious things with anyone, he felt that probably Hannah was thinking along the same lines.

 

Harry and Ron had waited until the door had closed behind Hannah and now they were heading back to Gryffindor tower.

 

“I bet he hexed him and sneaked away the moment Snape and Hannah disappeared. Damn, why did no one think to take his wand? They could have used <i>Prior Incantato</i> on it!” Ron was muttering to himself.

 

“If he really hexed him, yes,” Harry said. Hannah hadn’t been sure, had she? There might be a different explanation for everything she told them. Not that he was able to think of one at the moment, but Harry had learned from experience that that didn’t mean there wasn’t one.

 

“What do you mean, ‘If he really hexed him’? Is there any doubt about that?” Ron snapped. “She found them all alone. Neville was unconscious and Malfoy was shouting at him and shaking him. It’s pretty obvious who the culprit is, don’t you think?”

 

“But we don’t know that,” Harry protested.

 

“No, but anyone using their brain can easily deduce the missing details.”

 

“Hmm…” Harry wasn’t convinced but what Ron had said sounded logical and so he let it go.

 

“After you,” Ron held the portrait door open for him. Harry nodded his thanks and walked through, directly into Ginny’s arms.

 

“Hi. Gods, did you hear what happened to Neville? Apparently, Malfoy that git, attacked him and now he’s near death.”

 

Harry sighed, hugging her back automatically. “Yes, I heard about that. Actually, Ron and I have just been to the hospital wing to see him.”

 

“And then we accompanied Hannah back to the dungeons,” Ron added.

 

Ginny’s eyes widened. “So it’s true? Neville and Hannah are seeing each other?”

 

“Merlin… – We can’t say anything about that, but she was the one who found Neville. I think she was waiting for him and when he didn’t show up, she went to look for him,” Ron replied immediately and his quick reaction saved him from Harry’s wrath. Hadn’t they just told the poor girl that no one knew anything specific? How could he give her secret away like that?

 

Okay, Ginny knew more than Ron, but since Ron didn’t know that, it wasn’t his place to confirm any suspicions she might have.

 

Now that he thought about it, Ron hadn’t been acting surprised at seeing Hannah cry over Neville. But, maybe the feeling of surprise was overshadowed by the shock and worry about their friend.

 

“Oh, okay.” Ginny looked disappointed, playing down her anger at Ron lying to her face. “How is Neville? Please say he’s woken up by now!”

 

“No, he hasn’t. And nobody told us anything. Well, Hannah did, but since she only arrived after Neville was already unconscious, obviously, she didn’t see anything,” Harry explained. When Hermione stepped up to them, he quickly repeated what he’d already said.

 

“Hannah did mention that Malfoy shook him and yelled at him. I think he’s guilty and if the teachers aren’t going to do something about him this time, I will curse him into next week…and kick his scrawny arse so hard that by the time his feet regain contact to the ground he’ll find himself at home. Or in hell. I don’t care as long he’s not going to be around us any longer,” Ron ranted.

 

“You won’t do anything like that,” Hermione said firmly. “If you seek revenge, it’s you who’s going to get expelled.”

 

Ron crossed his arms in front of his chest, his stance widening. To Harry’s eyes he looked quite aggressive. That assumption was backed up by the hate in his voice, when he resumed talking as if Hermione hadn’t uttered one word.

 

“That little shit has done something that might very well cost Neville his life! And if you believe that I will let him get away with it, you don’t know me at all,” he spat.

 

“And if you believe that I will let you go out and ruin your life for him, you don’t know me,” she hissed back, using the same tone, her hands balled into fists by her side. “It’s not your job to reinforce justice!”

 

They were gathering quite a crowd with their yelling and Harry wished he could do something to distract people’s attention from the display – but there was nothing he could do. Ron and Hermione, facing off in the middle of the common room, were too much of a spectacle for anyone to miss.

 

He also fought the urge to assist Hermione in keeping Ron in line. Like her, he was worried about him and how it would affect his future if he did something rash now. He didn’t care that much about Malfoy. While he never wanted anyone to get injured, sometime soon there might come the time when he’d be willing to make an exception in his case. No, it was all about Ron, Ron, who had endured so much already and who shouldn’t have to suffer anything anymore.

 

But if he stepped in now, that would hurt more than help and so he held back, trusting in Hermione’s ability to sway Ron’s opinion if she really set her heart to it.

 

Unfortunately, Hermione’s warning only seemed to spurn Ron’s decision to go after Malfoy and with a snarled “Watch me!” he went toward the door, causing many of his housemates to gasp and hold their breath.

 

“Ronald Weasley, stop that madness this instant!” Hermione yelled; her wand already clutched in her hand. She looked scary with those blazing eyes, her face set in fierce determination.

 

Although he hadn’t turned around and therefore couldn’t see her, Ron must have heard something in her voice that made him heed the warning. He stopped with his hand already on the door.

 

“Ron, please. Neville wouldn’t want that and, despite that, it’s not like you to go after someone with intent to injure…or worse,” Hermione tried again, pleading this time. She crossed the short distance between them and put her hand on his arm, trying to get him to turn from the door and toward her.

 

\--

 

His friends had decided to go to Hogsmeade after all the drama this morning. Ron had eventually allowed his girlfriend to talk him out of the madness of hunting down Malfoy and they had gone to her room, having a long, private talk. Well, that was the official version. It didn’t explain why Hermione’s hair was bushier than ever when they emerged two hours later, looking for Harry and Ginny to tell them that they’d be gone for a while.

 

To be honest, Harry had expected Ginny to leave, too, but she opted to stay in the castle and spend the day with Harry. For a brief moment, he wondered if he should go after all, if anything to do Ginny a favour, but with Neville still being unconscious, something told him it’d be better if he stayed put.

 

“Harry? Do you want to go flying? With most of the older students gone, we’d have the pitch to ourselves,” Ginny suggested after lunch.

 

“Hmm, I don’t feel like flying, sorry.”

 

“Well, what do you feel like, then?” A grin formed on her face. “We could go to your room…?”

 

Harry just shook his head. Taking advantage of Neville’s absence didn’t seem right.

 

“Okay… How about a game of Exploding Snap? Or chess?”

 

“Phew, Exploding Snap then, I think. You share one gene pool with Ron and I don’t trust you not to trounce me in chess,” Harry said, only partly joking.

 

“Exploding Snap it is,” Ginny sang and bounded up the stairs to her room to grab her cards. Obviously, she had taken Harry’s comment as a compliment.

 

It didn’t take them long to set up the game and after the third round, Harry’s mood started to improve. It got easier to grin at the right places, and once or twice, a real smile crept up on him.

 

“Better?” Ginny asked quietly after round four, apparently having watched him closely all the time.

 

“Yes. Thank you,” Harry said, thankful for her understanding. He got up and sat down beside her. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

 

“Don’t worry. I also don’t know what to think about everything. And I don’t know Neville half as well as you do. If I picture it being one of my friends in his place…” Ginny trailed off, shuddering.

 

“Yes. It’s… I can’t believe something like that happens now. You know? I thought we were finally done with all this shit. No more mortal danger…” Harry shook his head resignedly. “And here we are again, once more worried about a friend’s life. And poor Neville… It’s awfully unfair!”

 

“Yes, it is,” Ginny assented. “But that’s why I could see where Ron was coming from. I think what pisses him off the most is just that, the unfairness of it all. And he’s done feeling helpless.”

 

“I know the sentiment,” Harry agreed wholeheartedly. “But I still think it would have been premature to do something now. I think we’ve got to wait until Neville wakes and sheds some light on the situation. If he confirms that Malfoy attacked him, I’ll be the first to rip him to pieces.”

 

“And if he doesn’t wake…?” Ginny asked tentatively.

 

“He will!” Harry insisted. He couldn’t bear to think any other way.

 

\--

 

And Neville didn’t disappoint people’s belief in him. Roughly one week later he opened his eyes for the first time, another day after that his friends were allowed to see him.

 

“Neville!” Hermione rushed over to his bed, enfolding him in a hug, closely followed by Ginny.

 

“Hi everyone,” Neville greeted them. He took in the faces of the people surrounding him and finally he asked, “Where’s Hannah?”

 

That question brought forward a myriad of different expressions but no one said anything.

 

“What?”

 

“So you’re ready to admit that you guys are dating?” Harry asked to be sure.

 

“Uh, yes. Shouldn’t I?” Insecurity crept into Neville tone and posture.

 

“Oh, you definitely should,” Hermione reassured him, sitting in the only chair situated by his bedside. “Grab yourselves some chairs or conjure some, for Merlin’s sake,” she ordered impatiently after she caught the first jealous gaze.

 

“Hannah’s with Professor Sprout, something about an extra project…?” Ron told him. “She wanted to come with us when McGonagall told us we could see you now, but Sprout has lessons all afternoon and so this was the only opportunity.”

 

Neville perked up at the news. “She’s still working on our project? That’s wonderful. But please, would one of you guys send her up later?”

 

“Certainly,” Ginny promised with a knowing glint in her eyes, making Neville blush. Being the bright girl she was, she picked up on it immediately. “Stop that. We’re all happy for you – and that includes Hannah.”

 

“You are?” Neville sounded like he couldn’t believe his luck.

 

“Of course, you berk,” she said, laughing.

 

Ron, obviously having enough of their banter, interrupted them by asking about Neville’s memories.

 

“Phew, I don’t know. Madam Pomfrey started to interrogate me the instant I was awake. Then McGonagall came in and asked the same questions all over again. And then something really weird happened: Snape came to talk to me. And he wasn’t his usual nasty self. I mean, he was far from being sensitive, but he held back with degrading comments about my person and his tone was, hmm, I wouldn’t say pleasant…but it was definitely not like he usually tends to address one of us, you know?” Neville finished, looking at them, probably to check if they had been able to follow.

 

“You don’t remember anything about that day?” Hermione clarified.

 

“Not much,” Neville corrected. “I do recall heading towards the dungeons. I decided to use the walk to go over our conclusion we had so far and then… I don’t know. I only woke up in this bed.”

 

“But you’re okay?” Harry asked, looking him over carefully. Something seemed to be different about him, but he didn’t look sick anymore. Harry made a mental note to sleep more as he was already starting to see things.

 

Neville’s face fell and he sighed. “Define okay.”

 

“Neville?” Concern and worry marred Ron’s features. “What did he do?”

 

“He?” Neville sounded confused but Hermione steered him back on track before he could ask more.

 

By now, everyone was gathered around the bed in a tight cluster. Harry’s stomach was tied up in knots. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one with a bad feeling.

 

“Um…” Neville sniffed and took a deep breath, trying to gain some strength for what he had to say. “They say that my magic is depleted.”

 

“What?”

 

“That fucker!”

 

“Oh my God…”

 

“What the-- What does that mean?” Harry inquired, aware that that was possibly a stupid thing to ask but he had to know anyway. He had thought now that Neville had woken, his magic was back?

 

“I’m not sure. No one has told me anything specific yet. I don’t even know whether it’s going to be permanent. I mean, I don’t know how it happened in the first place, so it’s impossible to make any predictions…is it?” Neville was pleading for some reassurance without directly asking for it.

 

“Uh…” Hermione seemed to war with herself. It was obvious that she knew a great deal about the situation but was afraid to reveal her knowledge.

 

“Say it!” Neville all but yelled at her. “It affects me; I think I deserve some answers.”

 

“As you said, since we don’t know how it came to be, we can’t say anything for certain,” she tried to stall.

 

Neville’s eyes narrowed into slits. “I’ve been awake for almost a day now and since then I was asked the same things about a million times. Sadly, the times when I dare to open my mouth, all I get are evasive answers, nothing substantial. Please, ‘Mione, if there’s anything you can tell me, do so.”

 

She looked like she was about to cry and Ron left his seat to come stand by her side, lending her some strength.

 

“All the times I read about someone depleting their magic entirely, it never came back. Usually, that led to those people’s death, but once or twice they woke up contrary to all predictions and led a normal life,” she said carefully.

 

“Normal means without magic, right?” Ginny asked bluntly. Though Neville paled, he threw her a grateful glance, obviously relieved that he wasn’t the one who had to voice the question.

 

Hermione simply nodded.

 

“Bloody hell.”

 

No one objected.

 

After a few minutes of deafening silence, Neville looked up from his hands.

 

“Do you think they’re going to ask me to leave…?” he asked in a small voice.

 

“If you go, I go,” Ron declared instantly and this time, Hermione didn’t rebuke him for her decision. If anything, she looked rather proud.

 

“I don’t think so, Nev,” she said. “You won’t be able to finish every course you took, but some of them should be fine, like Herbology, for example. And if anything, you could always sit in during classes and learn the theory.”

 

“In case my magic comes back after all?” Neville asked in a bitter tone.

 

“Yes. And because you deserve your N.E.W.T.s like the rest of us,” Hermione said firmly, giving his hand a squeeze.

 

“Bloody hell…”

 

\--

 

In Gryffindor tower emotions were running high. Well, it was not only among the lions, but her housemates were the ones complaining the loudest to Hermione and, concurrently, to Harry and Ron. Voices of people, demanding that she should do something about the situation, got louder.

 

“I’m going to go insane one of these days,” she sighed after having have to send off yet another group of students. “They’re right; of course, it’s absurd that, so far, nothing has been done concerning Malfoy. Merlin knows if they even plan to dole out any punishment. And people in all three houses are complaining. I heard there’ve been even one or two Slytherins voicing their concern about him being on the loose.”

 

“What does Goldstein say?” Harry asked, patting her shoulder pityingly.

 

“Anthony said just last night that he’s going to smack to next person coming to him about that,” Hermione replied, rubbing her eyes. For someone who usually never got tired, she was looking terribly weary at the moment. “I just don’t know what to tell them anymore. At the beginning, I thought it’d just take them a while to sort everything, but by now I’m not so sure anymore. They’re going to let him get away with it and I can’t say that I like how the situation is handled.”

 

Since Hermione rarely criticised a Professor, let alone the whole faculty, that was saying a lot.

 

“You should have let me go after him…” Ron muttered, apparently caught in between disappointment and helplessness.

 

“Oh Ron… That wouldn’t have helped any and it would have brought you in danger of being expelled.”

 

Ron huffed. “And you can bet that I would have been gone the very next day!”

 

“Hermione, let’s go see the Headmistress,” Harry suggested, getting to his feet. Something needed to be done before Hermione lost her sanity or someone else decided to go through with Ron’s plan. “Or maybe you’d rather have Goldstein come with you?”

 

“No. No, that’d be great, thank you. I’m sure Anthony would gladly miss out on that meeting,” Hermione said, standing up as well. “He’s so sick of the name Malfoy that I sometimes worry about him. – Ron, do you want to come with us?”

 

“Uh, no. I think I’m like Goldstein in that regard. But good luck!” He pulled Hermione close and kissed her quickly before he turned to Harry. “Mate, that kiss has to do for you as well since you’re not going to get one of your own.”

 

“He can have one from me,” Ginny said, having listened in on their talk, and proceeded to kiss Harry soundly. “So, and now go and tell her that we won’t put up with this shit any longer.”

 

“Unfortunately, there’s not much we can do,” Hermione reminded her. “But we’ll certainly do our best to make her understand where we’re coming from.”

 

“It’ll be fine, Ginny, you’ll see,” Harry said, trying to reassure her – and himself. Somehow, he had lost his belief in justice where Malfoy was concerned. While he still wasn’t one hundred percent convinced that he had actively harmed Neville, he had yet to hear an explanation that led him to know otherwise. And that ‘no information’ policy of the faculty made it even harder to believe that nothing fishy was going on behind their backs.

 

Considering Hermione’s expression, she had come to similar conclusions.

 

They left the common room and quickly made their way through the castle, coming to a stop in front of the Gargoyle, which was guarding the entrance to the Headmistress’ study.

 

Before she gave the password, Hermione turned to Harry. “Please, whatever she says, don’t lose your temper. Okay?”

 

Frowning, Harry asked, “Why are you worried about me? I’ve rarely lost my temper lately – unlike other people we know. He’s snapping all the time and yet you invited him to come here tonight.”

 

“I know. But he’s my boyfriend and I can’t afford to alienate him because I love him,” she defended herself. “And if he were here with us now, I’d give him a whole catalogue of directives.”

 

“Well, let’s get on with it,” Harry said, still peeved that she didn’t trust him to behave himself and obviously was not at all concerned about alienating him.

“I… Sorry. – Haversacking,” she said, looking contrite. A smile slowly formed on her lips when she noticed Harry’s grin upon hearing the password. Like Dumbledore with his penchant of sweets and his subsequent use thereof, McGonagall’s love for the game often showed in her choice of passwords.

 

They travelled up the moving staircase and entered the office side by side.

 

“Ms Granger, Mr Potter,” the Headmistress greeted them cordially. “What can I do for you today?” She gestured to the chairs in front of her desk. “Please take a seat.”

 

“Hello, Professor McGonagall,” Hermione said, sitting down obediently. “Uh, we’re here to talk about the situation with Neville and Malfoy.”

 

“The thing is,” Harry continued at her nod, “most of us feel worried that he’s still at school and nothing has been done to constrain him in any way. People fear that he might attack someone else any moment.”

 

The Headmistress frowned, looking at them disbelievingly. “Did you actually mean to insinuate that we, your teachers, do not care one whit about you all? That we did not look carefully at the situation and make an informed decision?”

 

Harry winced. He hadn’t meant for it to sound quite that way, but his fears remained and he could understand anyone who was thinking along the same lines. “Well, we believe that you’re doing your best to look out for us, but since we don’t know anything, it’s hard to overcome our suspicions and fears. It’s a fact that Neville’s been hurt badly within these walls, and as far as we, the entire student body, are concerned, nothing has been changed in order to prevent a similar incident in the future. That’s rather…disconcerting.”

 

One could almost see McGonagall’s hackles rising. She closed her eyes for a moment before they snapped open once more, staring down the young people seated in front of her.

 

“Okay. Listen to me, both of you. I do realize that you and quite a lot of your schoolmates are not typical students insofar as you have already fought in a war and, in Mr Potter’s case, defeated a dark wizard. Therefore, you established a different level of responsibility than other young people your age would have. But, I need you to understand that, when you voiced your interest in coming back to school, you agreed to be subordinate to your teachers. A school cannot run when it is the students calling all the shots – no matter what those very same students might have accomplished.

 

“I find it very hard to ignore your cheek, waltzing into my office and basically telling me how to do my job. I appreciate you being concerned about everybody’s welfare, but it is not your responsibility to ensure it. That is where we come in.” She looked at them sternly. “What also irks me is your willingness to condemn a fellow student of something very, very serious. I would have thought that at least you, Mr Potter and Ms Granger, knew better. Let me remind you that you judged people wrongly before.”

 

As had she, Harry thought, blinking. To have her throw their worries back into their faces like that was the last thing he had expected. A quick glance toward Hermione told him that she was shocked as well.

 

“I am sorry that I spoke to you this harshly,” McGonagall continued. “But the fact remains that none of you are aware of what is really behind it all and therefore, you are in no position to discuss the matter with me.”

 

“But maybe that’s the point,” Harry interjected, having gathered his infamous courage. “If you gave us another explanation than what is only logical, we would be able to understand what you’re talking about and might come to a different conclusion.”

 

“Indeed, Mr Potter, this would be one way to handle it. But, due to some reasons I cannot disclose to you, the way it is going to be is that you will have no other option than to believe what I tell you. Mr Malfoy is no threat to anyone and yes, we do know that for a fact.”

 

Hermione seemed to be close to tears and Harry felt the same way. McGonagall was dead set on not telling them anything and there was nothing they could do to sway her decision. Though why she would sacrifice the rest of her students in order to protect Malfoy he’d never understand.

 

“What about Neville, Professor?” Hermione asked cautiously.

 

“We still cannot say for sure what will become of him as far as his magic is concerned. And here we come to another example of you overstepping the line. It was not your place to tell him that he is basically a Squib now.”

 

“But he’d been awake for a day already and no one was telling him anything. Everyone just kept asking questions he wasn’t able to answer,” Hermione protested, defending her actions. “He was begging me for an answer.”

 

“We were asking him questions in order to find out if there was a way to help him. And when we had been satisfied that we knew everything there was to know for the time being, one of us would have been to see him,” the Headmistress said sharply. “I am not very angry about that, though, since it has just been a minor offence and you honestly meant to help him. Maybe it even helped him to be informed by you instead of myself and one of my colleagues,” she conceded. “But please, from now on, trust us to know what’s right for Hogwarts and her students. Please.”

 

Harry could already feel himself develop the mother of all headaches.

 

\--

 

Never having been one to let anyone discourage her, Hermione went to see the other Professors during the following days. Unfortunately, none of them was more inclined to accommodate her than McGonagall had been.

 

The last one on her list was the Potions Master. She had been a nervous wreck before she headed towards the dungeons and Ron and Harry were anxiously waiting for her to return to the common room.

 

“I told her it’s a bad idea to go to him, you know,” Ron said for the third time within fifteen minutes. “He’s even more likely than the others to defend Malfoy and he won’t be nice about it.”

 

“Yes, but you know ‘Mione. As long as she hasn’t tried everything, she won’t sleep well at night,” Harry said, also for the third time. He agreed with Ron on this, but trying to convince Hermione that she should save herself the trouble, was like talking to a wall.

 

“Oh yes, I do know. And if she’s unable to sleep, so am I,” Ron added, rolling his eyes.

 

“Well, she’s going to be back any moment now and then--” Harry paused when the portrait hole opened and revealed Hermione.

 

She was crying.

 

Both boys were on their feet in a heartbeat, rushing towards her. Ron reached her first and gathered her in his arms.

 

“Damn it, what did he do now?”

 

Harry found himself hovering beside them, unsure what to do, until he decided that steering them toward a sofa was all the help they needed from him. Soon, they were settled in one corner, Hermione curled up in Ron’s lap while Harry took the other side and waited for her to start talking.

 

It didn’t take her long to calm down and get those angry tears to run dry.

 

“He kicked me out! The nerve of him! Seldom had I to endure someone using such a tone with me,” she said eventually, rubbing her eyes. She turned toward Harry; her head was comfortably resting under Ron’s chin. “He didn’t even wait until I was finished talking. Oh no. He interrupted me, telling me he didn’t want to hear another word, and told me I should be ashamed of myself for instigating people’s worries! And he said I should ask myself if I was the right person for the position of Head Girl if I was harbouring that kind of prejudiced feelings.”

 

“Huh? Snape’s accusing you of all people to be biased? That’s rich!” Ron exclaimed.

 

“Yes, it certainly looks that way. I bet he’s on his way to the Headmistress as we speak, filing a formal complaint about me,” she said, her bottom lip wobbling.

 

“I don’t think he’d go that far,” Harry said quietly. “I think he just wanted you to understand what he thought of your assumption about Malfoy.”

 

“Why would you think that he won’t try and take her position away from her?” Ron demanded, running his hand through her locks in an attempt to calm her.

 

“Because he’s aware that people look up to Hermione and everybody likes her. If she’s forced to give up her position, people will start to mutiny. And he doesn’t want that.”

 

“Hmm…” Hermione sounded pensive. “So you think he just wanted to warn me off?”

 

Harry shrugged. “It’s possible, isn’t it? And think about it that way: Snape’s been the one who was always complaining that McGonagall was favouring the Gryffindors. Do you honestly believe she would follow through with it if he came to her about that? Well, maybe she would since she already told us to leave it, but he doesn’t know that.”

 

“He’s her deputy,” Ron said, unconvinced. “I’d say they’re talking about important stuff such as that.”

 

“But isn’t it more important to see how one might be able to help Neville? If anything, that’s the one thing they’re going to discuss.”

 

Hermione sniffled but hope was returning to her eyes. “Let’s hope you’re right, Harry.”

 

\--

 

Christmas that year was a quiet affair. Most of the castle’s residents had gone home for the holidays, taking advantage of the fact that the world was finally safe. Harry had been planning to head home, too, but at the last moment he decided against it. Spending Christmas morning in the sole company of his house-elf suddenly didn’t sound that appealing anymore.

 

Ginny had gone home at her parents’ insistence and Ron and Hermione had gone to stay with her parents. It would be the first Christmas with his future in-laws and Ron had been very excited on the last day of term. Harry had lots of fun teasing him about it, but eventually they were gone and boredom set in. Maybe he should have gone home after all? At least that way, he would have been able to pass the time by working on his home.

 

Well, he could still go, he told himself, but since he didn’t want to change his opinion hourly, he opted to stay despite being bored out of his mind. A few days of rest would do him a world of good. And so he spent his days alternately in the library studying and in the common room reading or dozing.

 

Christmas day wasn’t that much different from the other days and soon it was time for everyone to return.

 

“Hi, Harry,” someone said from the direction of the entrance. Harry looked up, surprised.

 

“Neville, hey. It’s good to see you,” he smiled. “But aren’t you a day early?”

 

“Yes. But my grandmother was overbearing and after two weeks I decided that I had enough,” Neville said, taking his trunk out of his pocket and placing it on the table. “I know she means well, but… Phew.”

 

“I think she’s just worried,” Harry tried to placate him.

 

“Of course she is. But it’s not like my life is over or anything, it’s just going to take a different direction now. And Gran’s wish for me is and always has been that I would follow in my parents’ footsteps. It never looked promising, but after the war her hopes rose, you know, learning that I’ve been fighting and so on.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Neville shrugged. “It’s not the worst that could have happened. I wouldn’t have been happy as an Auror, anyway.”

 

“Do you have any other plans?” Harry asked, hoping he wouldn’t hurt his friend with his question.

 

“Nothing specific so far. But I’ve been talking to Hannah and there are a few options,” Neville replied, keeping his answer vague. “I’ll let you know if there something more definite to know.”

 

Harry just nodded. He hadn’t wanted it to seem as if he was prying for information.

 

“Are you coming upstairs? I think there might be a little something for you in my trunk,” Neville said, changing the topic.

 

“Oh? Well, it happens that there’s one more gift in my trunk, too, waiting for its rightful owner.”

 

“My, what a strange coincidence!”

 

Both boys bolted up the stairs to their dormitory, chuckling.

 

\--

 

The following day Ron and Hermione returned with a huge surprise for everyone: they had gotten engaged over the holidays. There was an impromptu celebration party that night and no one cared about the lost points the next day as one or two Gryffindors happened to fall asleep during classes.

 

Harry had managed to stay awake in Potions, but just barely, and was walking toward the staircase leading to the Entrance Hall, when something shook him out of his stupor. Clutching his bag tighter, he rubbed his eyes with his free hand.

 

“Hello?” he asked, suddenly noticing that his classmates were out of sight. Well, that was no wonder, considering his snail-like gait, but he couldn’t help but look around wearily. What was he walking in on, now?

 

A shuffling of feet and subdued voices alerted him that something was going on to his right. Harry, being Harry, couldn’t stop himself from heading that way. He knew that his curiosity would likely kill him one day, but he just had to know what the noises were about.

 

“Potter, can I help you?” A sixth year Ravenclaw of unknown identity stepped into his way, blocking his view on whoever else was in the corridor. Damn his still slight built, Harry thought while he tried to peer over the other boy’s shoulder.

 

“You were looking for anything particular?” the taller boy repeated, his tone turning this way of unfriendly.

 

“Hmm, no. I just thought I’d heard something and decided to come looking,” Harry said, his eyes narrowing. If that boy wasn’t acting suspiciously, he didn’t know who was.

 

“There’s nothing wrong here, no damsel in distress waiting for you to save them.” He gestured around the corridor, sneering. “Why don’t you head to your next class before you’re too late and lose more points?”

 

Harry recognized the suggestion for the threat it was. His intuition told him that something was wrong and he almost went into his saviour mode. The urge was about to take over his actions when he caught a glimpse of white blond hair amongst the group of Ravenclaws.

 

 

Ah, that was why that bully had kept the gender of the damsel neutral. How incredibly funny, Harry thought. But then another thought occurred to him. Why should he put himself in danger for Malfoy, of all people?

 

He sighed. From the way things looked, they were not about to hurt him. Maybe scare him a bit. If it had been anyone else, Harry would have stepped in, but maybe it would help people to calm down if they knew someone had roughed Malfoy up a bit? It certainly would help him feel better if he knew that he got some kind of punishment.

 

Harry turned around to leave, but on a notion he called out to them, “I think you guys should also head to your next class soon. And if anyone should happen to ask me if I’d seen you, I’d be happy to let them know.”

 

He heard them scrambling around as he walked around the corner. Obviously, that slightly veiled warning had been understood and they were now aware that if they did something severe to Malfoy, Harry would tell on them. Seeing that Malfoy never moved a finger for anyone else, Harry thought he had been quite generous with his help.

 

\--

 

There had been a few more occasions, either seen by Harry or heard of from hearsay, where Malfoy was on the receiving end of people’s taunts and, now and then, shoves. But it never went as far as to be truly considered violent and every time Harry watched Neville struggling with his lack of magic, he shoved back any hints of a bad conscience.

 

The current situation, though, was nothing that could be ignored.

 

The Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin was well under way and Malfoy had been hit with a Bludger. The impact must have been harder than it looked like from the distance, because the other Seeker seemed to have difficulties keeping his broom in the air. He was wobbling precariously and nearing the ground in an alarming speed. Considering the height he had been when he started to fall, that didn’t bode well.

 

Harry’s eyes darted around frantically, trying to find anyone who’d be up to catching the blond, but no one was close enough to have a fighting chance – except him.

 

Of course, the teachers would all have their wands in hand by now, casting Cushioning Charms and whatever else coming to their minds to prevent Malfoy from crashing to death. But Harry knew from experience that all those handy charms could only do so much.

 

All of that went through his mind within a split second.

 

“Malfoy!” Harry yelled, diving after him in record speed. When he was only an arm’s length away, he reached for Malfoy’s hand. Unfortunately, he had underestimated the pull of a falling body and lost his grip and Malfoy’s hand slipped out of his.

 

Terrified eyes met his. Obviously, Malfoy had regained his senses but was still unable to slow his way downwards.

 

“Malfoy, bloody hell!” Harry steered his broom downwards once more, noticing the ground nearing in rapid speed. He had one more chance before he’d have to save his own neck and leave Malfoy to his fate.

 

He didn’t hear the roaring of the crowd, didn’t notice the other players rushing to his rescue. Harry was focused on nothing but his broom and Malfoy, spurred by the will to get both of them to safety.

 

“Malfoy, your hand!” Harry screamed, leaning forward impossibly far. This time, he didn’t aim for Malfoy’s gloved hand, worried that he’d lose him again, but wrapped his fingers around his wrist. He didn’t care if he left bruises with his vice-like grip. He just held on.

 

Then something odd happened as they were on a more controlled way downwards. Harry had no chance of keeping both of them in the air, not with Malfoy acting more like a rag doll instead of a person, and normally he should feel high on adrenaline – but he didn’t. Something was pulling insistently at his magical core and it was, despite the position they were in, calming. He had no way to describe it, but Harry hadn’t felt so in control for ages.

 

The moment they landed, falling to the ground in a heap of limbs and brooms, there were about a dozen hands on Harry, prodding him, pulling him to his feet.

 

“Mr Potter, how are you feeling?” Pomfrey asked, already running diagnostics on him. She didn’t seem to expect an answer.

 

The Headmistress was the next person stepping into his sight. She peered into his eyes, looking for something and asked about the same as Pomfrey just had.

 

“I--”

 

“Do you feel any different? Weak, maybe? Like you are about to fall asleep?” She stared at him anxiously. “Do you have your wand with you?”

 

Harry blinked. What was wrong with them? He wasn’t the one who had taken a Bludger to his abdomen, getting the wind knocked out of him and leaving him incapable of flying in order to save his life.

 

“Here, sit down,” Pomfrey urged him into a quickly conjured seat. Harry obeyed, looking in wonder at his teachers hovering around him, too stunned to speak.

 

“Your wand, Potter. Where is it?” Snape’s voice rang out over the murmuring of his colleagues.

 

“Uh, here…” Harry pointed to the wand holder, fixed to his arm.

 

“Good. Try to cast something. A spell, anything that comes to mind,” Snape pressed, his black eyes boring into Harry’s.

 

“Er, Professor, Malfoy’s the one who got injured, not me,” Harry interjected, spooked by everyone’s behaviour. Did he miss anything during his rescue campaign?

 

The adults turned as one toward the spot where Malfoy was still sitting on the ground, hugging his knees to his chest.

 

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose before he heaved a sigh, giving himself a moment to think. “Potter, cast something. Now.” It wasn’t a suggestion.

 

He tried to get a better look at Malfoy and watched as the other boy suddenly paled. His face ashen, he was staring at something in Harry’s hand, but when he followed his gaze, Harry only found his wand – nothing that Malfoy hadn’t seen before, right? Did he take a Bludger to his head, too? But he didn’t look woozy, just crestfallen. What in blazes was happening here?

 

A glance at Snape told him that the Potions Master was desperately hanging to the last shred of his patience and the other teachers didn’t seem to fare any better, so, to avoid people dropping dead due to heart attacks, Harry cast <i>Wingardium Leviosa</i> on his broom that had been lying beside his chair. It rose up into the air, hovering for a few moments, before Harry placed it back on the ground.

 

“Thank Merlin!” Pomfrey rushed to his side, enfolding him in a tight embrace.

 

Harry tried to breathe. “Need…oxygen!” He croaked.

 

“Oh!” The arms around him instantly loosened their grip. “We need to do more tests, but I think he is unharmed,” Pomfrey told the professors who had been waiting for the verdict. Pure relief was visible on their faces and Harry was this close to throwing a major tantrum in the middle of the pitch and in front of the whole school.

 

The Headmistress stepped closer, but as she opened her mouth, no doubt adding something else to his confusion, Harry snapped.

 

“What’s wrong with you? For fuck’s sake, <i>Malfoy</i> is the one that needs looking after, I am fine!” He yelled into McGonagall’s face, not caring about the punishment he’d likely just earned himself for showing such a disgraceful behaviour.

 

She reared back as if she’d been slapped. “Mr Potter!”

 

“Potter!” Snape looked murderous, but then he glanced at Malfoy and his face softened. “Thank you,” he murmured before focussing his attention on Malfoy. Afterwards, Harry wasn’t sure if his hearing hadn’t deceived him.

 

Snape dropped to his knees in front of the Slytherin, already reaching for his hands and prying them off his arms. He talked to him, too quiet for any of the bystanders to overhear, and soon Malfoy uncurled himself slightly. Snape walked on his knees until he came to sit behind him, encouraging the boy to lean back against his chest.

 

“Poppy? I think Severus is going to need a little help,” McGonagall told the nurse, indicating toward the teacher and his student.

 

Pomfrey nodded, throwing one glance back at Harry as she went. Strangely, she didn’t come too close and when she started her diagnostic spells, it was Snape who lifted Malfoy’s shirt to give her a better view.

 

Before Harry had time to wonder about her actions, his friends were at his side. All of them were looking flushed and worried, but happy to see him in one piece.

 

“Gods, Harry, are you all right? Did Madam Pomfrey find anything? She’s been running an awful lot of spells on you…” Hermione stepped aside to let Ginny get to Harry. She threw herself into his arms, causing the chair to wobble dangerously. Ron was there at once, placing a steadying hand on its backrest.

 

“I don’t know what that was all about. They were on me like vultures, though I told them from the beginning that I was just fine and that Malfoy’s the one who got hurt,” Harry replied, still flabbergasted.

 

“About that, mate,” Ron interjected, “what were you thinking? Risking your own life to save that git?”

 

“Would you rather have witnessed him dropping to the ground like a stone? I’m sure the sight would have been quite disturbing afterwards.” Harry scowled at him. Okay, he hadn’t gone out of his way to ensure Malfoy’s safety during the last months, but having him break his neck was not something he’d like to witness. There had never been any doubt in him that he had to help him up there.

 

“I bet he’s never going to even thank you,” Ron muttered.

 

“And if he doesn’t, I don’t care. I don’t require thanks for something I had to do.”

 

“Hmm.” Ron didn’t look happy and a huge part of Harry could understand him. Also, he knew that his friend was always willing to help, gladly going the extra mile for his friends and loved ones and generally everyone how was in need. And so he found it easy to forgive him the bitterness where Malfoy was concerned.

 

“Look, he’s an idiot but even idiots don’t deserve to die. I was able to help and so I did. If we’d been further apart or closer to the ground, I wouldn’t have risked it.”

 

“Oh, you would have,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes. She patted him on the back before she released him. “But that’s part of your charm.”

 

Hermione nodded vigorously and Ron just smiled.

 

“Are you allowed to leave?” Hermione asked, glancing at the adults crowded around Malfoy.

 

“I think so,” Harry decided and stood. “But she did say something about more tests.”

 

“What does she think she’s going to find?” Ginny frowned, her expression showing concern for her boyfriend.

 

“Merlin knows. But I’m going to find out,” Harry vowed.

 

\--

 

As it transpired, Harry wasn’t the only one who’d been summoned to the Headmistress the following night. He’d let her know it was fine with him since he wanted to know what all the excitement was about. This time, he wouldn’t let himself get fobbed off with some feeble half-truths and allusions.

 

He was accompanied by Hermione and Goldstein, the Head Girl and Boy. Or rather, he was accompanying them, climbing up the spiral staircase in their wake.

 

“Miss Granger, Messrs Goldstein and Potter,” McGonagall greeted them. “Please take a seat; this is going to take a while.”

 

The students looked at each other, detecting confusion on their comrades’ faces.

 

“I’m going to explain everything in a moment,” the Professor promised. “Please understand that what I’m about to tell you is not something I’d like you to share with the whole school. I think it’s time, though, to inform you about certain things.”

 

Hermione leaned forward in her chair, her eyes on the Professor. Goldstein tried to appear relaxed and unconcerned, but he also sat up straighter.

 

Harry bit his lip. Hopefully he’d learn what the faculty had been worried about the day before. It must be big, because so far, no further exams had taken place.

 

As it was, Harry couldn’t figure out what could be wrong with Malfoy that it concerned the Head Boy and Girl. Moreover, since the other boy hadn’t done anything to him, Harry still failed to see any connection at all.

 

“All right, she started, taking a deep breath. “Mr Malfoy isn’t exactly what he looks like. He’s not only a male wizard; he’s also a Furattactus. They are not distinguishable from a human person on the outside, so it is nearly impossible to tell. Well, unless you have an unpleasant encounter with one of them.”

 

“All encounters with Malfoy are unpleasant, but the same goes for most of the Slytherins,” Goldstein mumbled carefully so McGonagall couldn’t overhear his comment.

 

“The Furattacti,” she continued harshly, glaring at the Ravenclaw, “has one unique trait. By touching another creature or human being, they absorb their life force, or, in the case of a magical being, their magic. More often than not that leads to the same result: the death of whoever’s been in unprotected contact with them.”

 

“The gloves,” Hermione whispered.

 

“Correct, Miss Granger. Mr Malfoy informed us at the beginning of the year about his status, since he came into his inheritance at his birthday. In order to protect our students, heis required to wear special leather gloves at all times. He is under strict obligation not to leave his quarters without them, ever. Since it’s impractical to do so in bed or in the bathroom, he has been allotted his own room, not for his convenience, but for everybody’s safety.”

 

“How common are they?” Goldstein asked, ever the scholar.

 

“There is next to nothing written about them in the books and therefore, I can’t answer your inquiry to your satisfaction. It is assumed that they are quite rare, but as long as they follow the necessary safety requirements, they can’t be detected. We never had one of them at Hogwarts, at least not to my knowledge. But we have also got to remember that usually only the students born between September 1st and December 31st still attend school when they’ve turned eighteen years old.”

 

“What about his parents?” Harry wanted to know. “His father’s always wearing gloves.”

 

The Headmistress nodded. “That is a valid point, Mr Potter. However, since he never admitted anything, you could be right or he is wearing them for other reasons, let us say, because he likes them. Before you ask, it’s also unknown whether young Furattacti are exclusively born to fathers possessing the same trait or if they come into existence randomly, like Muggle-born witches or wizards,” she said, probably adding the last part for Hermione and Goldstein’s sake. “It is also unknown if every male descendent of a Furattactus is one, too.”

 

“And there’s no book that we could consult? Nothing?” Hermione asked, clearly upset.

 

“Not at Hogwarts, I am afraid. I have heard about one or two, but there is nothing more mentioned than what I’ve told you.”

 

“Hmm,” Hermione wrinkled her nose, not willing to admit defeat that easily. “Has this been checked recently?”

 

“No, it has not, Miss Granger. If you want to go through every book in the library, be my guest.” The older woman smiled at her. “Are there any other questions? Apart from that, I believe you understand now why Mr Potter has been in grave danger because of Mr Malfoy’s missing glove.”

 

“But I’ve still got my magic, don’t I?” Harry said, confused. “So is this what happened to Neville? Malfoy sucked him dry, so to speak?” Ron would love this. He’d always said that Malfoy was a leech and now he was officially proved right. Talk about a huge ego boost.

 

“Yes, Mr Potter. But we do not know how long the contact must be upheld so it comes to the worst,” McGonagall seemed unsure. “You have always been something special. Please go and see Madam Pomfrey tomorrow at the latest. We would like to make sure that there’s no lasting damage.

 

“As for Mr Longbottom, yes, we fear that’s what happened to him, although, we are still undecided if it was a planned attack or a simple coincidence. Mr Longbottom still doesn’t recall anything and Mr Malfoy refuses to talk, claiming that no one will believe him anyway.”

 

“And that’s why he wasn’t expelled. Because you can’t say for certain that he meant to harm him,” Hermione noted, understanding.

 

McGonagall nodded. “Yes, exactly. At least I don’t…”

 

Harry wondered if she was hinting that Snape might be better informed. The way he had been tending to Malfoy the other day led Harry to believe that they might have a closer relationship than what was usual between a student and his teacher.

 

“And we’re not allowed to tell anyone outside of this room?” Goldstein inquired.

 

“For the moment, Mr Goldstein, I don’t think it’s wise to share this knowledge with the whole student body, no.”

 

“But how can we protect everyone if we can’t tell them what’s going on?” The boy had raised an eyebrow, looking at her doubtfully.

 

“Mr Malfoy is not a rabid animal. If the staff or I believed he would attack random students, we would have made sure that he was confined in a secure place. That is not the case.”

 

Why she had bothered to inform them at all was the big question, Harry thought. It didn’t make sense.

 

“Let’s refer to it as a proof of trust…mixed with a bit of precaution on my side.”

 

\--


	3. Chapter 3

Early the next morning, Harry obediently made his way to the infirmary. He felt he owed it to McGonagall for handing over the information about Malfoy. If she could treat them like adults, he could do the same by easing the staff’s worries about him.

“Mr Potter, it is good to see you.” Pomfrey gestured toward the nearest bed. “Take a seat. This will take a few minutes.” She drew her wand and started to wave it over him in complicated patterns. 

After scanning him for about five minutes, Harry lost interest in watching her, letting his mind drift. He didn’t understand any of the words she was muttering under her breath and certainly didn’t recognize any of her wand movements.

“Mr Potter?”

Harry blinked.

“Mr Potter, there is something I need to talk about with you. But I’d like to ask the Headmistress and Professor Snape to join us.”

McGonagall he could understand, but why would Snape need to be present?

Pomfrey didn’t wait for him to acquiesce but went to the fireplace to contact them via Floo.

Harry snorted. Why was it that adults liked to act like you had a choice, only to shatter that hope seconds later? Then he remembered that, technically, he was also an adult by now, he groaned inwardly. Merlin save him from becoming like them!

He scooted backwards on the bed, propping himself up against the headboard. He had a suspicion that it might take Pomfrey a while to round them up. Especially Snape, who was usually too busy to care where Harry was concerned, or maybe he was only interested in students in his own house.

“Potter… Are you all right?” 

Harry jerked upright, almost tumbling off the bed. What was Malfoy doing in here?

He looked to the door, expecting to see the other boy standing there, but there was no one. Next, he checked the row of beds, and sure enough, there he was. Not lurking in a corner like Harry had suspected, but occupying one of the beds on the other side of the room.

“I think so. I’m still waiting for the final exam results,” Harry replied, struggling to keep his tone even. He wasn’t blaming Malfoy for anything regarding the incident the day before, and he didn’t think fighting in the middle of the infirmary would be a good idea. But it was still hard to be civil, he just had to think of Neville and he could feel his anger rising.

“I heard.”

Of course he had. Most certainly, he had also watched closely as Pomfrey scanned him, probably even recognized the spells. Harry didn’t think he liked the idea.

“Then why are you asking?” Harry couldn’t help it. Though his question was about as senseless as Malfoy’s reply would be, Malfoy was angling for information to use against him whenever the opportunity arose, but of course he would never admit to that.

Malfoy surprised him by asking, “Do you feel any differently than before?” 

“Before what?” Harry asked. There was, after all, a very slight possibility that he’d learn something new about Malfoy’s condition and he had nothing better to do. If anyone could shed light on the situation, it was Malfoy.

“Before you touched me.” 

Harry was intrigued despite himself. Where was the insult? Was Malfoy trying to be helpful? Just in case, he opted for a truthful answer. “No. Should I?”

“Uh, well… People usually do,” Malfoy said cautiously, searching for the right words.

“You should probably know that I know about you being a…leech,” Harry said, having forgotten the correct term. 

“I’ll thank you not to call me a leech!” Malfoy hissed, outraged. He flopped down on his back and immediately rolled on his side, facing away from Harry.

“Uh… Sorry, I don’t remember what McGonagall called your species.”

Malfoy muttered something indistinguishable into his pillow but after a few moments, he sat back up. 

“Furattacti.”

“Oh, right. Anyways, I know, so…?” Harry prompted.

“I won’t ask what the hell she was thinking, telling you about that. But since what I think doesn’t count anyway, I believe I can save myself the trouble complaining about it.” Malfoy sighed. “Well, as I was saying: usually people are affected by the touch…in a negative way.”

At first Harry had wanted to tell him about that strange, calming effect he had felt, but when Malfoy added the part about the negative way, he pushed that thought aside, certain that he must have imagined it.

“I wasn't, at least not that I know of.”

“It didn’t affect you at all?” Malfoy frowned. “That’s the first time I ever heard about someone walking away totally unaffected.”

“Yes, well, Snape would call it dumb luck,” Harry drawled. Malfoy’s lips twitched for a spilt-second, and then he grew serious again.

“I wouldn’t say he’s wrong... About Longbottom.”

“Yes?” Harry balled his fists, forcing himself to remain sitting on his bed. However, if Malfoy dared to say one wrong word about his friend, he wouldn’t be able to guarantee anything.

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed. “If you’re spoiling for a fight, forget it. I’ll just keep my mouth shut. I don’t need any additional trouble.”

“I’m not!” Harry hastened to reassure him, not caring that he was not exactly honest. He wanted to know already what had happened to Neville.

“Hmm.” Malfoy seemed to be looking straight through his lie, but continued anyway. “As it is common knowledge, I don’t think I’m telling you something new when I say that I’m no longer staying in the Slytherin dormitories.” He waited for Harry nod and went on, “It’s situated in the dungeons, as well, but closer to the kitchen. I think the Hufflepuffs are in that area as well, because they’re always flooding the corridors in huge clutters. Anyway, I heard a surprised or terrified shout and then noises that reminded me of someone falling down the stairs.”

Harry didn’t ask why this sound was familiar to the other boy. He also wondered why Malfoy was living that far apart from the Slytherins. Shouldn’t he be closer to his house, even in isolation?

“So I ran out to investigate. I found Longbottom at the bottom of the stairs, in all likelihood unconscious. Before you ask, he wasn’t reacting to me calling his name and his eyes were closed, so I assumed he was, indeed, unconscious. And had become so before I'd gotten there,” Malfoy added. “And no, I wasn’t kicking him or anything to test his awareness.”

Merlin, someone's really defensive, Harry thought. He hadn’t alluded in any way that Malfoy had done something wrong, had he?

“Anyway, there was a bump on his forehead. He must have gotten it when he landed on the floor, because it seemed to be growing. Uh, yes. I thought he must have gotten it recently. So, I wasn't sure if I should call for help, or try waking him first. I mean, after a fall, all it usually takes to wake someone, is to shake them a bit and they wake up, right?”

Again, Harry wondered where he gotten his experience from. He sounded very sure, almost too sure?

“At first I grabbed his shoulder and gave him a little shake. Not hard, concussions can be nasty. When he showed no reaction, I tried to pinch him. Nothing. When I slapped him gently, calling his name, Abbott came around the corner. The second she saw us, she screamed bloody murder.”

So far, his story had made sense, Harry decided. There was one thing he didn’t understand, though. “Why didn’t you tell McGonagall?”

“I did.” Malfoy refused to meet his gaze. “…and not just the one time. I also told anybody else that would listen.”

So that was the real reason why he hadn’t been expelled yet. He had tried to defend himself, but the adults had been unsure if he was telling the truth, or not. There was no proof of his innocence and there was no proof of his guilt, the truth was in the eye of the beholder. It depended on what you wanted to believe. McGonagall hadn’t trusted them to understand that, instead making them believe that the teachers didn’t know anything. But hadn’t he already suspected then that she knew more than she had admitted?

Harry got up and walked closer to Malfoy. He needed to get a closer look at his eyes to make sure that he wasn’t hiding anything and therefore undeserving of Harry’s pity.

“Potter?” Malfoy looked up in surprise upon hearing him come closer.

“I’ve got one more question: why didn’t you wear the gloves? Because that’s what happened, right? You touched Neville without them?”

Rubbing his face with both hands, Malfoy nodded, before he admitted, “Yes, I did. I ran out of my room on instinct and totally forgot that I’d just come out of the bathroom and was not entirely dressed. I suppose that’s the reason why they removed me from the dorms,” the last part was added in a forlorn tone. It almost sounded like it had only now dawned upon Malfoy what his creature status meant for the people surrounding him, the danger he put them in just by being around them.

“You really didn’t know?” Harry asked. It was hard to believe. Every time he had to wear gloves, he was aware of their existence. He couldn’t really understand if Malfoy was telling the truth when he said that he didn’t notice his were missing, especially after having to wear them for months.

“No!” came the harsh answer. Then in a softer tone, “I only wear them when I’m about to leave my room. As soon as the door closes around me, they’re off. I don’t miss them. In fact, it’s only by sticking them to the door that I remember to put them on each day.”

Well, there was his answer, wasn’t it? But if you knew you could harm other people, shouldn’t you make doubly certain that you dressed correctly before leaving? On the other hand, if he was startled by the noise and ran to help, who could blame him for forgetting?

“What about your wand? Did you also forget to take that?”

“You think this is funny? Yes, I did. I don’t have it on my person every minute of the day. I have it with me only when I leave the confines of my room. Yes, while living amongst the others, I carried my wand with me 24/7, but now the situation’s different.”

With a start, Harry realized that Malfoy had just told him in a roundabout way that he never felt save living in the snake pit. Was this where he gotten all that knowledge about concussions and falling down stairs? For a moment, it had actually sounded that way. The revelation hit him off guard and he didn’t know what to say.

“Mr Potter?” Pomfrey called from the door. “I thought it was implied that he was supposed to wait for me – Oh.” She stared at the two boys in disbelief.

Snape pushed past her, scurrying over to Malfoy’s bed.

“Is everything all right? Did something happen?” He seemed to look for any injuries, first on Malfoy and then, to Harry’s surprise, on himself.

“We’re fine, we’ve just been talking,” Malfoy told him, a meaningful expression on his face.

“Indeed,” Snape looked actually relieved and Harry wasn’t sure why. So often these days, he wondered if he had missed something.

“How are you feeling?” He asked no one in particular and when he didn’t get an immediate reply, he glared first at Harry, then at Malfoy. “Well?”

“Um, okay,” Harry said tentatively, unsure if he was supposed to answer.

“Fine.” That must be Malfoy standard reaction. Harry doubted very much that it was true. The other boy was holding his stomach again, now that he wasn’t alone with Harry any longer, feeling vulnerable. 

“Poppy, maybe Mr Malfoy would appreciate a potion for his injury,” McGonagall stepped in only to watch Snape hand over the appropriate vial before she had closed her mouth. She blinked. “That was quick.”

“Thank you,” Malfoy said meekly after he had downed the content. Snape gave him a nod.

“Wonderful. Now, we’re here to discuss the results of Mr Potter’s exams,” the Headmistress said, businesslike. She motioned the two adults and Harry back towards the bed he had sat on before, and swiftly conjured three seats, before sitting down. Harry was asked to resume his earlier place on the bed and once everyone was seated, she gestured for Pomfrey to begin.

“First off, what about Mr Malfoy?”

“Do you think he’s going to eavesdrop on our conversation?” McGonagall asked her friend and at her nod, threw up a silencing spell.

“Thank you. As you know, I was going to do some more diagnostic spells on Mr Potter and they came back with surprising results,” the nurse started. “Nothing worrisome, but I think we should discuss them nonetheless.”

“I figured that out for myself. If you don’t mind, get to the point,” Snape growled, his gaze directed toward Malfoy. While he agreed with the man’s statement, Harry was a bit disappointed at Snape’s obvious disinterest in his wellbeing. And he wanted to smack himself for being such a stupid brat. This was Snape, what in Merlin’s name had he expected?

The next thirty minutes were some of the most confusing in Harry’s life, and that was saying a lot, considering that his life had rarely been normal.

It seemed that there was a slight dent in his magical strength, but Pomfrey was only able to notice it because she still had his old results from some exam about a year ago and she was able to compare the numbers. They were talking about a thousandth. Since he had been holding on to Malfoy for quite a few moments, his results should show much more damage. 

Harry wasn’t impressed by that revelation since he and Malfoy had noted that very same thing without doing any exams. Well, Malfoy had said that there should be more wrong with Harry, and he had seen no reason to disagree. What he still didn’t know was why that was the case. Moreover, what exactly had he felt when he had touched Malfoy? Nevertheless, these thoughts would have to wait for another time, as he didn’t feel comfortable addressing his own thoughts and feelings in front of Snape.

As if he wasn’t feeling like a freak of nature already, Pomfrey proceeded to inform her audience that something had changed Harry’s physical constitution. He hadn’t grown taller or broader or was looking healthier, but, she insisted, overriding their protests, his results – his blood pressure, for example – had improved by a great deal. 

McGonagall chalked it up to Harry finally recovering from the ordeal of the war and Snape was inclined to agree with her, adding that Pomfrey had never run an evaluation spell on Harry when he’d been in a good condition.

Thinking for a moment, Harry raised the objection that he hadn’t been exactly relaxed today either when he entered the infirmary, but he was told that the results would have shown an overall tendency and, in that case, one stressful day didn’t count much.

In the end, Harry nodded when he was asked if he had understood everything and asked to be excused. Thankfully, they let him go, though he had no doubt that they would continue discussing the conundrum that was Harry Potter, after he left.

He glanced one last time at Malfoy, who was curled on his side with his eyes closed, a faint hint of pain still visible on his features, and left the hospital wing. He really needed to talk to his friends and try to get a semblance of all the information he'd learned today.

\--

Harry was in luck. When he stepped through the portrait hole, he immediately spotted Hermione and Ron. Ginny wasn’t far either and Neville was just walking down the stairs from the dorms. 

“Hi, I’m back!” he announced loud enough to stop Hermione and Ron's kissing and look up.

“Harry! Is everything all right?” Hermione was instantly alert. “What did she say?”

“Hey, mate. Were you right and she didn’t find anything?” Ron sat up straighter, a little flushed from embarrassment due to having been caught snogging.

Ginny hurried across the room. “Please tell us everything’s all right with you!”

Fortunately, she had forgiven Harry for not allowing her to come along. Harry had debated with himself whether he should take Ginny with him, but in the end had decided against it. He didn’t need a watchdog and if something had been wrong, it would have been worse if he had to comfort her along with trying to deal with the news than just being on his own. Deep down, he knew that this kind of behaviour between a boyfriend and a girlfriend, wouldn’t be regarded normal by most people, but he didn’t really care.

“Harry?” Neville asked quietly from the side. He had been shocked when he had learned what had happened to Harry, that he’d been in danger of suffering the same fate. According to McGonagall, Neville shouldn’t even know how he had lost his magic, because she had forbidden them to talk about Malfoy, but Harry had felt that he deserved to know and so he had taken him aside last night and told him everything. In his eyes, that was only fair.

“I’m okay. There’s nothing wrong with me to speak of.”

Ginny flung her arms around his neck, squeaking, “Thank Merlin!”

Ron looked relieved as well; only Hermione and Neville weren’t satisfied. Hermione spoke for both of them.

“Nothing to speak of, you say. And what _is_ wrong with you?”

Harry patted Ginny’s back, letting her know that she could let go of him now. When she stepped back, he scratched his head. How should he explain it to her while the youngest Weasley’s were around? Well, he didn’t know if Hermione had informed Ron about Malfoy, but he was certain that at least Ginny was clueless.

“It was really nothing. Parts of her scan showed different results, but almost everything changed for the better, so she’s happy.” There. That was as vague as he could be and still be the truth.

“And what worsened?” Ron asked, by now having picked up on the fact that Harry’s initial comment hadn’t been quite as positive as he'd tried to make them think it was.

“Uh, well, it didn’t get worse in the sense that it’s going to do any damage,” Harry evaded.

“Spit it out already,” Ginny hissed, clapping her hand in front of her mouth instantly. “Sorry. But we’re worried about you and all you do is feed us half-truths. That’s hardly fair, don’t you think?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes, okay. My magical level decreased somewhat, but it’s nothing dramatic and no one’s going to notice any differences. _I_ won’t notice anything different. She just happens to remember the results from an earlier exam and so she was able to compare the numbers.”

“Your magic was affected?” Hermione asked faintly. Harry almost pitied her. Of course her mind went into overdrive upon hearing something like that, especially after McGonagall’s news last night.

“It looks that way, yes, but again: it doesn’t matter. Really, guys, I’m fine!”

“You’re the master of downplaying bad news, so forgive us if we have our doubts,” Ginny said, looking sullen.

“Oh, come on! I’m fine. Want me to demonstrate something? Anything?” Harry offered, hoping he’d be able to convince them. Honestly, he wasn’t that bad. He didn’t like people fussing over every little thing where he was concerned, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t ask for help when he truly needed it.

“No.” Ginny sighed. “I’m sure they checked you over carefully.”

Harry nodded. He glanced at his friends faces, looking from one to the other. Hermione still had doubts, Ron seemed at least partly satisfied and Ginny was on a good way. Only Neville still looked really concerned.

“It’s really fine. They couldn’t explain it.” He looked at Hermione and Neville. “But I was given a clean bill of health.”

“Promise?” 

Harry reached for Neville’s hand and shook it. “I swear.”

“Good,” Neville smiled and Hermione nodded, adding, “I’ll hold you to it!”

“No idea what that was all about, but now that it’s established that Harry won’t keel over any time soon, could we head down for breakfast? I fear my stomach has already started to digest itself,” Ron said, only partly joking.

And so they went. No one wanted to be responsible for Ron’s untimely demise.

\--

That night, Harry threw himself on his bed. He was grumpy and so he had decided to retire relatively early, afraid he’d otherwise take out his bad mood out on his friends.

His day hadn’t improved after breakfast. He had hoped that he would find some time to take Hermione aside and talk everything through, but every time he tried to speak to her, Ron had appeared out of nowhere and the opportunity had been lost.

The one time he knew Ron was nowhere near, it had been Ginny, asking him about his plans for the next weekend.

After that, he had given up and focused his effort on catching Neville on his own, only to find Hannah glued to his side. 

It was really frustrating: the whole day had gone by and only he knew as much as he had that morning. 

Just as he was about to close the curtains around his bed, a visual sign that he was no longer up, Neville entered the room. He aimed for his bed, but when he noticed Harry, he changed his direction, coming towards him instead.

“Got enough?”

“Hmm. I’m not fit for company tonight,” Harry explained, shrugging. “And I don’t feel like making an effort.”

“I know the feeling,” Neville commiserated. “Sometimes you just can’t be bothered. Everything everyone says sounds stupid and senseless, doesn’t it?”

Harry nodded. That sounded about right.

“Does your bad mood have anything to do with this morning? What you were told in the infirmary?”

“Perhaps.”

“Ugh, could you be any vaguer?” Neville rolled his eyes and nudged Harry. “Shove over.”

When they were sitting side by side, leaning against the headboard, he tried again, “So. About this morning: did you tell us the truth? Are you really all right?”

“Yes, Neville, I swear. I don’t know what happened, or rather, why it didn’t happen, but it didn’t affect me the way it affected you…” Harry trailed off.

“If you want to add an apology, leave it. Because otherwise I’m going to hit you,” Neville growled. “What happened to me isn’t your fault and it wouldn’t help anybody if you shared my bad luck.”

“Well, okay, but I was going to say that I’m sorry that you haven’t had some of my luck… Is that allowed?” Harry glanced at him, trying to figure out what he could say and what he should not.

“Allowed, but pointless.” There was some bitterness in Neville’s voice. 

As much as he’d like to talk about himself and try to clear up his confusion, Harry thought that maybe now was not the time.

“Have you decided yet if you’re going to finish the year?” he asked tentatively, afraid that he was going to hurt his friend by asking.

“Hmm?” Neville’s head jerked in his direction. He looked surprised. “I thought we were talking about you. I was preparing myself for lots and lots of confusing facts.”

“Well, we could,” Harry agreed readily, “but I’d really like to know what you’ve decided.”

“Uh, I…”

“If it’s too soon or you don’t want to talk about it at all, just tell me to mind my own business and I will.” Harry hoped the other boy understood that he didn’t want to pry. He was just honestly interested to see if Neville could make a decision in such a short period of time. Considering the fact that Harry had no idea what to do with his own life, and his plans hadn’t even been thwarted recently. He wouldn’t judge Neville if he hadn’t figured out his plans already.

“No. No, it’s okay,” Neville reassured him. “I’ve been talking to Hannah during the last few days and we’ve reached the conclusion that we want to do something together. Either we’re going to lease a pub or we’re going to open up a business, selling plants: potions ingredients and flowers. We’re going to put off the definite decision until after the finals.”

“Whoa…” Harry was impressed. Obviously they had put a lot of thought in their future together. “Both are things you could actually do, couldn’t you?”

“Without ever getting my magic back, yes,” Neville confirmed. “Well, there are restrictions considering the plants I would be able to work with, but there’s always Hannah, so it should be fine.”

Trying to picture Neville in the middle of a gigantic greenhouse, surrounded by hundreds of plants, Harry could easily see him being happy, even without the ability to make his work easier by using spells for the more mundane parts of his day-to-day work.

The pub wasn’t a bad idea, either. Neville, after having cured himself of his shyness, got on with almost anybody and he’d make a wonderful landlord.

“What do you think?” Neville asked when Harry hadn’t shown any reaction after a few moments. “Do you think we’re delusional?”

“No! Of course not! I think both are just great ideas and I’d love to come to your pub after work and I’d equally love ordering flowers for my wedding at your shop. Whatever you two decide on, it’s going to be a big success. I’m sure of it.”

“Thanks. I hope so, too.”

“I know so,” Harry insisted and Neville chuckled. 

“Anyway, want to talk about you now?”

“Hmm,” Harry grunted. 

“Oh, come on. There’s something you haven’t told us this morning, isn’t there?” Neville elbowed him into the ribs. “Spit it out!”

“I felt something when I touched Malfoy,” Harry admitted quietly.

“Felt something? What? Like he was pulling on your magical power?” Neville sounded intrigued.

Harry paused to think, for a moment. He wasn't sure how to explain it. “I don’t know what it was exactly. But it had a strange effect on me.”

“What effect? Merlin, Harry, don’t make me beg for every word!” His friend folded his arms in front of him, looking put out.

“It was calming. I mean, we were up there in the air and I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to get us safely to the ground. And yet I was relaxed…or so it seemed. I know it sounds weird…” Harry wondered if Neville would think he’d gone insane. His rambling could certainly lead to that thought.

“Well, I thought my heart would stop when I watched you up there, so yes, there was nothing calming about it. But didn’t you say Madam Pomfrey mentioned that your blood pressure has decreased? That would support your theory about what happened.”

“I don’t have a theory!” Harry protested. “I was only telling you about it because I don’t understand it. And I also fail to see why Malfoy touching you affected you so badly and all that happened to me was a slight improvement of health. That doesn’t make any sense!”

“No need to yell at me…” Neville muttered, rubbing his ears as if they hurt. 

Harry apologized sheepishly. He hadn’t meant to get loud; his frustration had gotten the better of him.

“Yes. Now, how about the fact that your magical levels are higher than everyone else’s? I mean, they rivalled Dumbledore’s,” Neville suggested.

“Uh, well, I think it’s more because our contact was a lot briefer than the contact between you and Malfoy.”

“No one was there to witness it, so it’s just an assumption, isn’t it? And besides, you were holding on to his wrist for quite some time. I’m sure that to you, it seemed like mere moments, but in reality it wasn’t.”

“Then maybe it makes a difference if he touches someone rather than someone touching him?”

“Harry!” Neville snapped. “Listen to yourself for a moment, will you? You’re coming up with all sorts of weird explanations when I just gave a perfectly good reason why it affected you less than me. You’ve got to admit that it’s the most logical explanation.”

“But you can’t prove it, either, can you?”

“No, not really, but I think it makes sense. If the contact had been prolonged, I think eventually it would have harmed you, but not within such a short time.”

“So you’re saying–” Harry paused. “I could test it. Touch him for a bit longer and get Pomfrey to do another test, see what happens.”

Neville goggled. “But why would you do something stupid like that? If I’m wrong, you’re just going to endanger yourself needlessly.”

That was a valid point. Unfortunately, Harry didn't have any good reasons to touch Malfoy again, he just thought he’d like to know what would happen, no matter the possible consequences. But why he felt that way, he really couldn’t say.

\--

During the following days, Harry swore he could constantly feel Neville’s eyes on him. When Harry got out of bed in the morning, went to the bathroom, during meals, during all the classes they shared, at night when he went to bed, his every move was watched. It was rather unnerving.

On the fourth day he cornered Neville after dinner, demanding an explanation.

“Well, do you even realize how strange you’re acting? You don’t hang out with Ron and Hermione any longer, you barely pay attention to Ginny and you seem to live in a dream world. You don’t notice what’s happening around you, you’re too occupied with your own thoughts and I think it’s disconcerting.”

“Oh.” Harry flushed. He hadn’t thought his apathy was that obvious. He knew he was a bit distracted, but he hadn’t thought anyone would notice, since he was carrying on as usual. Besides, no one else had mentioned anything to him.

“Believe me, it's like you’re only physically present,” Neville clarified. “Are you still thinking of your little experiment? I think you should forget about it, but I also know that I can’t hold you back if you really want to do it. Just, promise me to be careful.”

And that was exactly what had Harry distracted for days now. He knew it would be his decision if he chose to follow through and no one else’s. On one hand, his curiosity was telling him to get on with it, but on the other, he was worried. What if this was just him challenging fate one time too many? Even his dumb luck would eventually end, wouldn’t it?

“I don’t know. I can’t seem to make up my mind,” Harry whined, angry at himself for his tone. There was, after all, no reason to complain.

Neville groaned. “Well, let me know. At least then I’ll know what happened when they find you lying in a corner unconscious, or worse.”

For Neville, that comment was uncharacteristically cruel, but Harry figured it wasn’t completely unjustified. After all, Harry was thinking about provoking a situation not unlike the one that had cost Neville his magic. No wonder he was getting desperate. Who could blame him?

“You really think it’s a bad idea?”

“Yes! And I also don’t see why you would do that. Tell me; just what are you hoping to gain anyway? Clarity? Why is it so important?” Neville was deadly serious; there was no hint of a smile on his usually friendly features.

“I don’t know why I have this fascination with this topic,” Harry admitted. If he was honest, he was starting to drive himself insane.

“I’m afraid, there’s nothing much I can advise you to do, except get over it!” 

Harry nodded. Inwardly, he rolled his eyes. Had he not learned already that was easier said than done?

\--

Doing his best to take Neville’s advice to heart, Harry forced himself to pay more attention to his surroundings, and when he began to do that, he noticed Malfoy throwing glances at Neville when he thought no one was watching.

He didn’t wear his usual sneer, the one he reserved for Gryffindors. If anything, he looked a bit concerned and…regretful. Could it be that Malfoy was suffering from a bad conscience? 

The more he thought about it, the more he came to realize that it wasn’t that unlikely. After all, the blond had acted worried when he thought he had harmed Harry. Also, he had told Harry, that morning in the infirmary, that touching Neville without his gloves had been an accident. And that would fit neatly into the picture Hannah had given them of the situation. Hadn’t she said that Malfoy had jerked away from her touch? Could it be that he hadn’t been afraid for himself, but for her?

Over the next few days, Neville gradually reduced the amount of time he spent watching Harry. Harry, himself, started keeping a close eye on Malfoy, and began to realise, he seemed to be right. Malfoy was even more subdued than he had been before he had hurt Neville and had stopped interacting with his housemates. Well, Harry had noted the same thing before, but now Malfoy wasn't interacting with the world at all.

Since Harry firmly believed that the Slytherins couldn’t know about Malfoy's his situation, he had to conclude that it was Malfoy’s decision to seclude himself. Somehow, he found Malfoy's attitude bothered him. Of course, he knew that this was ridiculous and that it really, really wasn’t his business, but he couldn’t help but sympathize with the blond.

Hadn’t he been the same after Cedric’s death? If the holidays hadn’t started shortly after and he hadn’t gotten the seclusion he had craved, his friends would have had a hard time getting him to talk or interact with them. He'd lost the will to pull himself together for a while and while Neville hadn’t died, losing his magic, for a wizard, came close.

Also, Harry’s and Malfoy’s parts in their respective situations had not been the same, but again, it came close. Both of them felt responsible for something that had happened out of their control.

Additionally, Harry thought he understood why Malfoy had withdrawn from his housemates after coming into his inheritance. Harry assumed it was a bit like it had been for him, when he had realized that everyone close to him was in danger of getting hurt or killed by Voldemort and his followers, just because of the fact that they were close to him. Being close to Malfoy could also be lethal and there was nothing he could do about that. Plus, he probably hadn’t asked to be a Furattacti, just like Harry hadn't asked to be the Chosen One.

They had completely different situations, but they also had a lot in common.

And so Harry continued to watch Malfoy closely, looking for signs, though signs of what, he didn’t know. His friends, relieved when he seemed to be more alert during class, started worrying again, until one day Hermione couldn’t bear it any longer.

“Harry! What is so interesting about Malfoy of all people? You almost crashed into the wall. Did you even realize that? If I hadn’t pulled you aside in time–”

Harry tore his eyes off Malfoy, who was sitting at the end of the Slytherin table all by himself; his shoulders slumped, pushing his food from one side of his plate to the other. Oh, it seemed he had barely missed the doorframe on his way out of the Great Hall.

“Thank you.”

His wrist still in her grip, Hermione yanked on his arm to get his attention.

“That’s not the point! I wasn’t asking for your gratefulness, I wanted to ask you what is wrong with you. If you can’t be bothered to look where you’re going anymore, where do you think this will end? You’re besotted with him,” she stated, still not letting him go.

“Huh? No, I’m not,” Harry denied. “What makes you think this way?”

“Plain observation. I didn't have to think on it at all, because it's only too obvious,” Hermione replied. “Stop this. Please! And please stop it before someone gets hurt. I’m speaking of your girlfriend here, in case you’re wondering.”

Harry wanted to answer back that Ginny was capable to speak for herself for over a decade now and didn’t need Hermione to do so, but when he looked at her, he realised that she wasn’t joking. She was dead serious and she probably deserved an explanation instead of a flippant remark.

“I've found some similarities between the two of us and now I’m trying to figure out if I’m right. That’s all. This infatuation you’re talking about is non-existent, okay?”

She pursed her lips. “Oh. Well, if you say so…”

“’Mione, please stop this. And if you’re going to put silly thoughts into Ginny’s head, I’m going to be pissed,” he warned.

“No need for me to put anything there,” she muttered.

“What was that?”

“Ginny’s already jealous because you spend so much time thinking about someone else. I’m just saying. If you value your relationship, you really should re-evaluate your behaviour.”

To say he wasn’t pleased was putting it mildly. He might have been a little preoccupied lately, but that didn’t mean that he had forgotten about Ginny. He still liked her very much and thought that she was a great person. He always enjoyed her company and very much wanted to keep her around.

“You’re not the right person to have this discussion with, are you?” he asked eventually, grinning weakly at her.

Hermione nodded, finally letting go of his poor wrist. “Nope, you should go talk to her.”

He shook his limb to restart the blood flow and promised her he’d speak to Ginny that very night.

\--

It wasn’t Harry’s fault that he had to break his promise to Hermione. He was just on his way back to the Gryffindor common room, walking through the endless halls of the castle, when he felt someone watching him. For a moment, he suspected one of his friends and whirled around, hoping to catch them. But all he saw was someone disappearing behind a large statue.

“Hey!” He hurried toward the statue, intend on confronting his shadow. People had to stop watching him, it made him feel paranoid. If they didn't stop, he might get angry and lash out. 

To his utmost surprise, when he got around the statue, the eyes that blinked back at him, in the dim light, belonged to none other than Draco Malfoy.

“Uh hi,” Harry said, confused. He had always assumed that he'd been the one following Malfoy, not the other way around.

Malfoy gulped audibly, his head bent downwards and didn’t say anything in return.

“Why are you following me around?” Harry asked. When he didn't, again, get a response, he continued, “You could also claim that you haven’t done it intentionally, but then I’d have to ask why you’re hiding behind this stupid statue instead of going your way.”

Malfoy seemed to ponder his questions but still didn’t reply! Harry wanted to shake him.

“Are you trying to drive me mad? Because I can tell you: it's working.”

Suddenly Malfoy’s head came up and Harry jerked back in surprise. He had almost wondered if the other boy had fallen asleep on his feet. Unfortunately, Harry lost his footing due to his jerky movement and Malfoy’s arm snapped forward, grabbing his hand in a last minute attempt to steady him.

Both their gazes snapped towards their clasped hands.

“I’m wearing the gloves, don’t worry.” Malfoy was the first to find his voice.

“I’m not worried… more disappointed,” Harry confessed before he could stop himself.

“What are you trying to say?” Malfoy looked confused, dropping Harry’s hand as if it was something dirty.

Harry sniffed. Of course, his confession might have been somewhat surprising, but that didn’t mean Malfoy had to act like he was contagious or something equally unpleasant.

“Just that I’m a bit disappointed that you’re wearing them,” Harry bit out.

“Why should you be disappointed? Since I’m not allowed to leave my room without them, I’d say it’s only natural,” Malfoy snapped, a defiant look in his eyes. Now that he had started looking Harry in the eye, he seemed unwilling to be the first to break the connection.

“I wasn’t accusing you of being careless,” Harry clarified. If Malfoy acted rudely toward him, he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction and hand him more ammunition to do so.

“Hmm,” Malfoy grunted, not looking mollified.

“Stop acting like an arse. You acted like I was about to infect you with something; even through your gloves, I’d like to add.” Really, Harry thought, if anyone had the right to be ticked off, certainly it was him.

“I didn’t–” Malfoy started but then he stopped himself. “I really thought you were accusing me for endangering yet another life. I thought you were going to rebuke me for touching you and trying to harm you.” In a sudden bout of honesty he added, “I’m kind of sick of having to listen to the same things over and over again.”

That last comment, Harry could relate to. “Believe me, I know. But I wasn’t… Yes, well. I meant exactly what I said earlier, no hidden insults or reproaches.”

“I still don’t understand.”

Harry wasn’t up to telling Malfoy about his plan and so he decided to evade the question by changing the topic more or less elegantly. 

“How are you feeling? Is your stomach better now?”

A pale blond eyebrow rose. “Why would you want to know that?” Malfoy asked suspiciously.

“Uh, because the last time we spoke you were a patient in the hospital wing and, if I remember correctly, you were in pain.”

“You make it sound like us talking, is a regular occurrence,” Malfoy said, still eyeing him cautiously. Harry wondered what he was waiting for. An attack? Ridicule? It was hard to say with the stoic expression Malfoy was favouring.

“Well, no, but that was the last time we did talk,” Harry repeated himself.

“True,” Malfoy conceded, leaning back against the stone wall behind him, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“So?”

“Ugh. I’m better. Are you happy now?”

“Deliriously happy, thank you,” Harry quibbled, thankful that he had managed to successfully distract the other boy.

Silence stretched between them until Malfoy asked, out of the blue, “Did you find out why I didn’t harm you, like I did Longbottom?”

Harry shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. There’s this possibility…”

“Yes?” 

“Well, everybody has different magical levels; maybe it’s got something to do with that?” Harry suggested. He hadn’t been sure whether it was a good idea to tell Malfoy about that, but now that it was too late, he wondered what he would have to say.

“You mean that yours was higher to begin with, therefore losing some of your magical energy didn’t have the same effect on you as it did on Longbottom?” Malfoy thought for a moment. “That could be right, I think.”

“Really?”

“Why are you that surprised? Don’t you think so?”

“No. Yes. I’m not sure. It was Neville’s idea, actually.”

“Well, I’m sure he gave it a lot of thought,” Malfoy said dryly, his face lacking any hint of assessment. “If I were him, I’d do the same.”

“So I’ve been thinking… What would happen the next time you touched me?”

“You would lose another bit of magic?” Malfoy said, now regarding him as if he was stupid.

“Yes, maybe…”

“What do you suspect will happen?” He looked curious.

“Oh, nothing. I’m sure you’re right and I’m acting a bit idiotic. I was just wondering whether Neville’s theory was right and so I thought if we tried again, we’d know for sure.”

“I don’t think so.” Malfoy’s tone was firm. 

“Why not? It’s not your risk to take.”

“Very funny. If anything were to happen to you, I’m sure everybody would stand in line to thank me for harming you. Well, the standing in line I can imagine, but to kill me, not to thank me. Like I said, I think not.”

“Not much of a risk-taker, are you?”

“Not when someone’s life is at stake. Playing chess or brewing, I’m always willing to take the risk if the outcome looks promising.” Good thing Malfoy hadn’t mentioned Quidditch, or they might have a fight on their hands.

“Potions, hmm…” Harry murmured, frowning. He had the distinct feeling that there was something he should ask but it remained just beyond his reach.

Malfoy nodded. “Yes, things I can plan. Things, where, if they go wrong, I can live with a bad outcome.”

Maybe he should stop prodding now, before the whole situation blew up in his face. Looking at his own track-record, he didn’t exactly function well under pressure.

But before he backed off, he had to ask one more thing, just in order to satisfy his curiosity.

“Did your parents forewarn you that you’re going to be a Furattactus? And did they give you directives on how to behave? I take it that your father is one as well?”

Malfoy didn’t look pleased at the questions, but he started to reply nonetheless. “I knew of the possibility for some time, yes, but since it wasn’t certain, I never put that much thought in it. I was told to wear my gloves at all times. But you knew that already, so I don’t understand… Did you think they want me to hurt other people?” He almost yelled the last part and Harry leaped back, taken off guard.

“I… No, I was just curious…” He shrugged helplessly. It was really getting bothersome lately, always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.

“Well, it was inconsiderate and I don’t appreciate the implication that they would sick me on my schoolmates or anything like that,” Malfoy sneered, his cheeks flushed and the grey eyes blazing in anger. 

Harry winced.

“You’re just like all the others, judging me by my last name and thinking the worst of me and my family. My parents aren’t that bad! Just because they don’t share your views, doesn’t make them monsters. And who says that your views are the right ones, anyway?” Malfoy was in full defensive mode and Harry had nothing to say to contradict his statements.

“Let’s end this here, before either of us says anything we’re going to regret,” Malfoy said, pushing himself off the wall and stepping around Harry. “Thanks for trying.” With that, he turned away and disappeared towards the dungeons.

\--

Sadly, Harry’s night didn’t change for the better after that. If anything, it got worse. As soon as he entered the common room, he was faced with Ginny’s wrath. She basically told him the same things Hermione had already warned him about and added that she couldn’t believe he would prefer Malfoy’s company to her own. He wasn’t able to find out how she knew, but it became clear that she was aware whom he’d been talking with earlier. The only thing that her spy had missed to tell her was that he and Malfoy hadn’t parted on friendly terms. But, maybe that was beside the point.

When he finally managed to get a word in, he calmly told her that he didn’t need someone by his side who dictated to him who he was allowed to see. He also thought to add that it was quite ridiculous of her to accuse him of neglecting their relationship when they had spent at least half an hour per day in each other’s sole company and, considering the fact that they lived with hundreds of people, in his opinion that was saying something. He regretted that she obviously felt differently and suggested that it might be better if they stopped seeing so much of each other until further notice.

That was when things turned ugly and in the end, Hermione had to break them apart. She succeeded eventually with Ron’s help, sending him off with Harry to their dormitory while she took Ginny with her. 

Their housemates were left in the common room, staring after them with wide eyes. No one had ever witnessed such a spectacular break-up and it would take days before the gossip died out eventually.

Harry was relieved when Ron slammed the door behind them and the excited voices from the common room were muffled. He couldn’t believe that he just broke up with Ginny in front of the entire house. And now that he thought about it, the whole situation seemed totally unreal. He had never seen himself do something like that. Ginny and him were meant to be and they were supposed to be married in a few years and sooner or later they’d be parents of three perfect children…and now he had given away that chance at happiness.

Stupid.

Ron threw himself on his bed, nearly bouncing off the mattress due to the force behind his movement.

“Bloody hell, what have you been thinking? I thought you were going to talk to her and sort out your little differences. At least, that is what Hermione insinuated…” Ron scratched his head in bewilderment. “She’s never going to forgive you for that, you know.”

Harry perched on his own bed, holding himself ramrod straight. He wasn’t up to a discussion with Ron at the moment, but telling him so might set him off and he wasn’t up to dealing with him in a snit, either.

“Who? Ginny or Hermione?” he forced himself to ask.

“Oh, both, I think.” Ron looked anything but happy. “You just ditched my little sister. I should hate you for that,” he said musingly.

Harry nodded mutely. He had expected Ron to react that way. Everyone in his family would come to the same decision once they heard how he had treated their youngest. Harry could do without Percy, but the rest of them he’d miss terribly. Hell and damnation…

“But somehow I don’t,” Ron continued, causing Harry’s jaw to drop to the floor.

“You don’t?” he asked, not believing his luck.

“Not really. But I still don’t understand it. That can’t be because of Malfoy, can it? I mean, you trailed after him like some lovesick puppy and Hermione said, repeatedly, that you’re infatuated with him, but honestly… He’d never be able to take Ginny’s place and if you had given her a chance to think, she’d have come to the same conclusion. So why didn’t you? Give her that chance?” Ron got that calculating look he usually wore in the critical stages of a chess game against a worthy opponent.

Harry didn’t dare to breathe. He had no idea what Ron was getting at, but, he knew his (at the moment) friend was dangerous in that mood.

“Did you wait for it?” Ron demanded eventually, propping himself up on his elbow.

“Wait for what?” The alarm bells in Harry’s head shrieked loudly. That was no innocent question, not with Ron looking at him like that.

“Wait for the perfect opportunity, mate.” 

If he was going to ask what opportunity Ron was talking about, the redhead would probably explode and so Harry stopped himself in time. It wasn’t like he was too thick to understand what Ron was alluding to; it was just that Harry had decided not to think about that. Not now, and possibly not ever.

“You know, I think you wanted to do that for a while but never had the balls to go through with it. And, now that she handed you the opening on a silver platter, you took the chance and ran with it without giving it another thought. Now, you’re scared of your own courage, wondering if you acted too soon. You didn’t give yourself the time to think it through, including all the consequences. Bad luck, mate.” Ron sounded regretful but not hostile and Harry took that as a good sign. But he was still shocked. Ron usually wasn’t the most perceptive person when it came to other people’s motivations. Having Ron list Harry’s motives like that was disconcerting and it rendered him speechless.

“You see, I shouldn’t condone your behaviour, but the thing is: if you don’t want to be with her any longer, you’re the wrong guy for her, no matter what we want to believe. And I really want my sister to be happy and not hanging on to a long dead relationship,” Ron explained and Harry almost choked on his bad conscience. By the way, when had Ron grown up?

“So,” he continued his little speech, “I really think this is for the best. Although, I’ve got to say that I’m astounded by the cowardice you showed. I mean, it’s obvious that she just wanted to share her irritation and you dumped her without batting an eye.”

So there was the bitterness Harry had been waiting for all along. Well, that had to be expected. Ginny was family and he was just a friend – if anything. Great. He had been looking forward to that reminder.

Ron groaned. “This is… Look, I’m going to see if Gin’s all right and then maybe we could play one or two rounds of Exploding Snap or something?”

Harry’s lips curved into a smile. That comment, more than anything, showed him that Ron was indeed his friend. He deliberately avoided suggesting a game of chess so he wouldn’t beat Harry when he was already feeling a bit shaky. Anybody with a more malicious character would have jumped at the chance to seek revenge – Ron didn’t, not with people he proclaimed to care for.

\--

The lake was covered with a film of pollen, allowing the wind to create various, short-lived pictures. Harry had taken to sitting by the lake for at least thirty minutes each day after the end of his relationship, looking over the water. It was calming.

Going there on his own gave him time to think and it also helped him occupy the time he suddenly had to spare. Who had thought that a relationship took so much time out of your day? It had certainly surprised Harry.

He had been watching a sheep turn into a chicken and now it was turning into something that distinctly reminded him of a…turtle?...when someone stepped up to him and tapped his shoulder.

Harry jumped and accidentally hit his head against the trunk of the tree, making him see stars.

“Shit!”

“Ooops! So sorry, Potter, I didn’t know you were so skittish,” Malfoy said, lowering himself on the ground a few feet away. “Eh, hi.”

“Hello to you, too,” Harry said, gingerly rubbing his head and checking his fingers for blood. “Bloody hell…”

Malfoy got to his knees. “Do you want me to take a look?” he offered, already reaching for Harry’s head and motioning for him to bend it downwards.

“No, it’s fine.”

“It’s not.” Malfoy pointed to his smeared fingers. “You’re bleeding, you oaf.”

“It’s not so bad. It’s already stopped hurting,” Harry tried to reassure him, manfully suppressing a wince. But Malfoy wanted to hear none of it and insisted, “Come on, you big baby, let’s take a look.”

Harry acquiesced reluctantly, feeling indeed like the baby Malfoy had called him. It was just a little bump, nothing severe, and usually, he wouldn’t pay any attention to a scratch like that.

Malfoy placed a glove-clad hand on his neck and pushed him further down to get a better look. Harry noted that he was surprisingly gentle about it. Then nimble fingers started to part his hair und just when Harry sucked in a sharp breath, the movement stopped.

“Shhh,” Malfoy murmured and reached into his robes. “I’m going to need my wand for this, but don’t worry, I won’t hex you.”

Harry snorted but kept himself perfectly still.

“Sorry, but I need to get a better look,” was all the warning he got before the other boy’s hand neared the wound to an uncomfortable proximity. “Okay, here we go.” He muttered a few Latin words under his breath and eventually Malfoy sat back, letting go of Harry and deeming him healed. “I’m sorry, but I can’t spell away the pain.”

“Oh, no, that’s fine. Thank you!” Harry hurried to say. He reached for the back of his head and felt around a bit. “Wow.”

“Impressed?” Malfoy smirked, looking very pleased with himself.

“Yes, well, I don’t think Madam Pomfrey would have been any more efficient,” Harry admitted, settling back into his earlier position. His back resting against the tree, his knees drawn to his chest, he got comfortable.

“What can I do for you? Or did you just happen to come down here?” he inquired, curious. After the abrupt ending of their last conversation, he hadn’t expected to talk to Malfoy again that soon.

“Hmm,” Malfoy hummed. “I admit that I was curious to see how you were doing.”

“Huh? Why?” Harry was at a loss at first, but then realization dawned on him. “Oh. Heard about that, did you?”

“Well, yes, the whole school’s talking about it. You and the Weaselette have been one of the more prominent couples at Hogwarts, you know.”

Harry frowned. “Don’t call her that.”

“Don’t do that. You’ll be getting wrinkles before your time.”

Shouldn’t Malfoy apologize instead of bantering with him? Shouldn’t he rebuke him for his misbehaviour instead of biting back laughter? Harry shook his head. Lately, he really feared for his sanity. His forced his features into a neutral expression and looked up.

“Better?”

“Wonderful. You’re skin is going to be most grateful,” Malfoy complimented. “So, Potter, how _are_ you feeling?”

“The usual.” Harry waved his hand dismissively. The truth was, he didn’t feel grand, but the misery he had expected post break-up was still pending.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “Not good, not bad, huh?”

“Something like that,” Harry conceded. “Was that everything you wanted?”

Rolling his eyes, Malfoy got to his feet. “Yes, that was everything. And now that you satisfied my curiosity, I’m going to leave you to…whatever you were doing before I rudely interrupted you.” He took one last look at the lake. “Nice Hippogriff. It’s quite fascinating what pictures the wind can draw on the water.”

Then he walked away. Harry was staring at his retreating back for a while and when he dragged his gaze back to the water, the Hippogriff’s outlines shifted and slowly transformed into a snail.

\--

Most of the Gryffindors had already retired to their dorms for the night, only a few of the older years were left. It was a cold night and most of them were gathered around the fire, reading or working on assignments.

Harry was seated on an armchair he had pulled a bit aside from the cluster of his housemates. Since he was too far from the warming flames, he had dragged his blanket down from the dorm, pulled his knees to himself and covered most of his body until nothing but his head was visible. It was quite comfy that way and he made a mental note to remember that position for the times Ron’s snoring would be exceptionally bad.

Hermione approached him, hugging a stack of books to her chest. She must have been in the library earlier that night and was now on her way to bed, Harry thought sleepily. Maybe he should head upstairs, too.

“Hey, do you plan on sleeping in that chair tonight?” she asked quietly. She yawned, almost losing the grip on the books in her arms when she tried to cover her mouth. “Sorry.”

“Hmm,” Harry grunted and uncurled himself, sitting straighter.

“Oh, no, don’t. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you,” she said hastily and Harry sank back against the backrest.

“Are you all right? I haven’t seen much of you lately…” Her attention went to the book hanging precariously from her fingers and she shifted the entire stack into a safer position. Harry reached out with one hand and helped steady her balance.

“Thanks. – Harry?”

“I’m fine. You spent a lot of time with your head in the books, so I think it’s only natural that you didn’t see much of me,” he grinned.

“Is that supposed to be a complaint?” she asked jokingly – he hoped.

“No, of course not,” he said truthfully. “With the amount of courses you took, I’m astonished you get any sleep in between your monster study sessions, let alone pay attention to anything else.”

“Hmm,” she acknowledged. It must be hard being her, Harry figured, so much to learn and so little time left until the start of the finals. Not to mention her additional responsibilities as Head Girl.

“I understand you stopped following Malfoy around?” Hermione asked, the books wobbling again.

“Put them down, okay? I don’t fancy getting buried underneath them,” Harry said, gesturing toward the nearest table.

“I was just on my way to bed,” she protested, but did him the favour.

“Knowing you, this could take a while,” he reasoned, shifting a bit to allow her to squeeze into the narrow space between him and the armrest.

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“Isn’t it?”

“So, tell me. You and Malfoy. Is there something I should know?” Hermione leaned back and when she couldn’t reach the backrest, she used Harry’s shoulder as such.

“Uh, no?”

“Was that supposed to be a question or my answer?”

“Your answer?”

“Now listen here, young man. You just agreed to talk or else you wouldn’t have invited me into your armchair. And now you’re not going to reply? That’s unsatisfactory,” she said, flawlessly imitating Snap’s cold tone. Harry shivered.

“Don’t do that…”

“Then don’t do _that_!”

He huffed. “We might have been talking once or twice.”

“Oh?”

“You’re impossible,” Harry complained. “Yes, we’ve been talking. So what? I wasn’t aware there were any rules against that.”

“Of course not!” Hermione exclaimed. “Inter house relationships are very welcome.”

Harry paled. “Who said something about a relationship?” he asked urgently.

Hermione goggled. “That… Uh, that would have been you. Harry?” She looked at him searchingly. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he hedged. Curse him for giving himself away like that, and curse her for having to pick up on every bloody detail.

“You don’t want to tell me,” Hermione deduced, a hint of sadness in her tone. “Okay, I’ve got to accept this.”

A long pause followed after this. Harry didn’t know what to say and Hermione was busy rubbing her arms, maybe trying to get some warmth into them.

“Here…” Harry pulled part of the blanket out from under Hermione and draped it over her. “It’s terribly cold in here for this time of the year,” he commented.

She smiled at him, but didn’t wrap herself in. “It’s okay. I think I’ll head to my room now.”

“No!” Harry exclaimed. “No. I think it’s nice, sitting here with you.”

“Oh, Harry. I think so, too. But all I’m going to say to you or ask you will only aggravate you more,” she said regretfully. “I’m sorry that you feel you have to hide something like that from me.”

“You wouldn’t understand…” Harry hated it. He hated feeling guilty that he hadn’t told her before and he hated the knowledge that it had been the right decision. He didn’t need her approval, but deep down he knew it would be wonderful to have it.

“What do you think I would not understand?” Hermione pressed gently.

“What you said.”

“The relationship between you and Malfoy? Why would you think so?”

“Because you think… You don’t like him and you wanted me to stay with Ginny and--”

“Stop right here,” she cut in. “It doesn’t matter whether I like him or not, as I don’t have to be with him. As long as he treats you well, that won’t be an issue. Plus, there’s a vast span between head over heels in love with someone and not liking them. I think, I’m somewhere in the middle where Malfoy is concerned.” She glanced at him, waiting for him to nod in understanding. “As for you and Ginny… Yes, of course, I wanted the two of you to stay a couple, but I think most of it was only wishful thinking – out of convenience. And you’re not supposed to settle for someone just because everyone around you favours that idea. You’re supposed to find the perfect partner for yourself and fight for your happiness if necessary.”

How did she do that? How did she know what to say? Harry was confused.

“You know that this is strictly theoretical?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. He was so tired all of a sudden.

“Hmm. But I meant what I said…and I’m not going to change my opinion in, say, a month or so.”

“That’s…good to know. Just in case.”

Hermione giggled in response.

\--


	4. Chapter 4

His initial idea had been to resume watching Malfoy. If Hermione had noticed that he had stopped that, though he still maintained that he had never done that to begin with, and concluded that something between them must have changed, maybe he could sway her suspicions by watching his every move.

After some additional thinking, he realized that it was too late now, seeing that he had more or less admitted that there was something changing between them. 

Having reached that point, Harry had confused himself too much to think straight any longer, and he decided that he needed a break. He grabbed his cloak and his broom and went down to the Quidditch pitch. Flying usually helped him clear his mind and he prayed that it would help today, too. 

It was a beautiful day outside, just what he needed. Harry ran the last metres and threw his leg over the handle of his broom as soon as he reached the outlines of the pitch. Seconds later, he was soaring into the sky and whooped with joy.

Perfect.

There was not much that felt so liberating to him like flying.

He zoomed around the goal posts and practised a few moves he had read about in one of Ron’s Quidditch magazines. He spent a glorious hour in the air before he even considered landing again. Not immediately, of course, but within the next hour or so. 

An infinite amount of laps around the pitch later, Harry suddenly realized that he had company. The first clue was the tiny Snitch fluttering in front of him enticingly before it sped off again and disappeared out of view. When he looked around, he noticed that the shadows of two flyers were visible on the ground where there should have been only one. A backward glance revealed Malfoy. 

Harry slowed down marginally and allowed the other boy to catch up with him.

“I thought you wanted to finish this mysterious project of yours this weekend? Otherwise I would have invited you to come along,” he said when Malfoy appeared by his side.

“I did work on it all day but then I got bored. And I might have overheard Granger telling someone that you’re out here on your own…”

“Where did you see her? I assumed you’d be with Snape and I don’t see her spending her time in the dungeons.” 

“I had to go look up some things and so I went to the library,” Malfoy explained, sounding exasperated. “For some reason, the Professor refused to let me use his books on the matter.”

“I don’t understand how you can stand working with him anyways,” Harry muttered. “This is another fine example why I could never imagine that for myself. But what do I know…” He shrugged, not nearly as unconcerned as he made it appear. It hurt to think that Malfoy was working day and night on something he refused to tell Harry about.

“Patience, Potter.”

“Yes, I know.” How more often would he have to hear that?

“So, I’ve come here for a bit of distraction and fun. How about we stop talking about work now and start searching for that Snitch?” Malfoy’s eyes gleamed.

“But you will tell me about it the instant that you’re done?” Harry asked, needing at least some reassurance.

“Yes, I will.” He reached over and patted Harry’s arm. “Now, please indulge me and give me a bit of a challenge,” he pleaded.

Harry wanted to say more but then he thought he spotted the elusive ball at the other end of the pitch and shot off, Malfoy mere inches behind him.

\--

They had a few more casual encounters like that and eventually, Harry stopped worrying about it and started looking forward to seeing him again. He also forced himself to stop thinking too much and see an issue in every minor detail.

So what if Ron wasn’t happy with him right now? Ron had been his best friend for years and he’d come around eventually. Though, truth to be told, he didn’t look forward to the day when he would have to tell him that Draco would never take his place as Harry’s best friend but hopefully would succeed Ginny.

Of course, he had barely finished that thought when the moment of truth had come.

“Mate, you wanted to tell me something?”

Harry had hinted that he would like to talk with Ron two days ago, but since then lost his nerve and avoided him whenever he could. Unfortunately, his luck had run out.

“Oh. Uh, yes, I…” Harry shuffled his feet. Why had he insisted he’d inform him himself when Hermione had offered to do that for him? Stupid Harry…

“Come on! As long as you’re not going to tell me that you dumped another of my siblings, I swear I won’t bite,” Ron laughed.

Harry took a deep breath. “You’re not totally wrong…”

“Huh?” Ron blinked. “You and one of my brothers are dating? Have been dating… Uh. Huh?”

Harry guffawed, but if he was honest, if wasn’t so much out of amusement but to downplay his nerves. “Eh, no. And I haven’t ditched one of them, either. But…” He sighed. “The correct part was that I’m indeed seeing someone…and that someone is male.”

“Huh?”

“You’re repeating yourself.”

“Huh?”

Harry decided to say what he had to say before Ron regained control over his speech centre. It would be hard to get a word in, then.

“Okay, look, I know it must be out of the blue, but I’ve always been attracted to one or the other boy. Just because I’ve never acted on it doesn’t mean the feelings haven’t been there. Now, I’ve started to talk to this boy and we realized that we get along just fine, so we saw more and more of each other. And this last weekend…he asked me out. Obviously, since I felt compelled to inform you of that occurrence, I agreed. – That’s all. You can close your mouth now,” Harry told him gently, reaching out and lifting his jaw for him.

“That’s all, he says…” Ron muttered, shaking his head. “Uh, wait… You just got to know him? Oh Merlin… Who are we talking about?”

“Draco,” Harry replied before he could decide against it.

“Merlin…”

“Have you lost three fourths of your vocabulary since we started this conversation? You repeat yourself an awful lot,” Harry remarked, concerned. Ron seemed to be in a state of shock and he didn’t know if he should worry about or make fun of him.

“Huh?”

“Okay, that sort of proves my point,” Harry said. He waved his hand in front of Ron’s face, trying to gain a reaction.

“Stop this!” Ron batted his hand away in a delayed reaction, but Harry didn’t care. At least his friend was aware of his surroundings.

“Great, there you are again,” he said relieved. “So… Do you think you might be able to get over the fact that I’ve hooked up with him?”

“Like I have a choice,” Ron said dejectedly. “I don’t want to throw away our friendship, do I? I got over you and Ginny’s break-up, I will get over this.” His expression was one of fierce determination.

“You think so?” Harry had to ask.

“I know it. – And now that you had your fun, I think I deserve some of my own. Tell me all about how you guys got together,” Ron demanded. Harry groaned. That boy was evil. Evil!

“I… Uh…”

“Hmm, you seem to have lost quite a few words yourself,” Ron mused. “Now, come on! I really want to know and I’m not Hermione. I can’t piece everything together when I only get a few scarce facts.”

Harry grinned at his mention of the third member of their little crew, but frowned when he imagined Ron’s reaction to his story.

“I’d rather not.”

Ron drew himself up to his full height, obviously indignant, his eyes narrowing. “Oh, no?”

He wavered. “Hmm, well… Do you really want to know?”

“I think that’s what I said.”

His happiness about the situation with Draco won out and Harry agreed to share. He motioned Ron upstairs and they disappeared into their room. Neville was out somewhere with Hannah, but Harry figured it would be all right if he came back halfway through his tale. Neville was next on his list anyway.

Just as he was about to launch into his story, he paused. Did Ron know about Draco being a Furattactus? Or would he have to start right at the beginning?

“Okay… Uh, did Hermione pass on what McGonagall told us that day in her office? I know she wasn’t meant to, but…”

“Yes, she told me. Not immediately, but a few days later, she decided that I should know,” Ron confirmed.

“So you know how Neville lost his magic. Or, I probably should say, how Draco was able to do it. It was an accident, you know. He didn’t set out that day and decide to harm another student or anything. He heard Neville tumble down the stairs and ran out to see what happened. When he saw him lying there, he wanted to help and wasn’t aware that he wasn’t wearing the gloves. He wouldn’t have touched him if he had known.”

“That’s what he says,” Ron muttered, but gestured for Harry to go on.

“Hey! If you want to condemn him, then there’s no use for me to go on.” Harry wanted to shake some sense into him. Why was he automatically thinking the worst of the boy, just because he was Draco Malfoy? If it had been any member of another house, Ron would have been the first to claim that it must have been unintended.

“Well, it does sound a little suspicious, don’t you think? Neville falls down the stairs and no one’s witnessed him falling. So we don’t know if he got tripped or anything or just missed a step. That’s the first thing. And then, I think I remember Hermione mentioning that Malfoy is required to wear those gloves constantly. Why didn’t he do so that day of all days?” Ron stared at him challengingly.

“Because he was in his room and no one can make him wear them in there. That’s why he’s living in isolation, you know. So he doesn’t have to sleep in those things and can take a shower like every other person. If you heard someone cry out in front of your door, would you check if your attire was complete before dashing out of the door?”

“I don’t need to wear protective clothing so I’m not a danger for other people,” Ron pointed out.

“No,” Harry conceded. “But you’re usually wearing trousers before you leave the room. Yet, here, within the privacy of our dorm, you happen to walk around in your boxers in the mornings and before going to bed. Now, imagine you happen to hear something suspicious outside and it made you fear for someone’s safety… Would you think of checking if you wore them or not before running out there?”

“Hmm.”

“See? I think it’s the same. Draco’s not wearing them when he’s on his own and, in that particular situation, he simply forgot about them. And he’s regretting his mistake every single day.”

“He is?”

“Of course he is! What do you take him for?” Harry hissed. He was rapidly nearing the point where he would have to stop himself from lashing out.

Ron took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He repeated that action three times before he appeared to be something resembling to calm. 

“All right. Malfoy didn’t harm him deliberately and he’s genuinely sorry. Let’s go with that. So what happened next?”

Harry sniffed. “We talked. I saw some similarities. We talked again. I said something stupid. Uh, we talked some more and eventually he asked me out. No, wait, sometime in between, I broke up with Ginny.” He scratched his head. “Or something like that.”

“Maybe you could describe it in a bit more detail?” Ron got up from his bed and went to his trunk, starting to search through it. “Here.” He triumphantly waved a bottle of Odgen’s. 

“Firewhiskey?” Harry raised an eyebrow. “Ron, it’s--”

“…liquid courage,” Ron finished for him.

“Um, I meant to say ‘a little early for that’, but that works, too.” Harry conjured two glasses and passed them to Ron. “I’ll take a full one, please.”

“These are pint glasses,” Ron chipped in.

“Your point?”

Ron agreed happily and poured the drinks, handing one glass to Harry before he raised his own. “Cheers!”

Harry inclined his head and lifted his glass for a moment, and then he took a long drink. “Ah,” he sighed, feeling the alcohol warm him from the inside.

“Nice, huh?”

“It was a great idea. Thanks, Ron.”

“So… A few more gulps for you and then I want my story,” he commanded, lying back against the headboard of his bed, getting comfortable.

Harry downed half of the glass’s contents, lost the fight against a loud belch and went to copy Ron’s position. 

“It really started like I said,” he began. “Draco was feeling bad about Neville and I was able to relate to that, because I know what it’s like to have done something you really didn’t intend to do. And to be burdened with a trait you never asked for. I don’t know what caused him to seek me out, but something must have drawn him to me. I think he realized that I understood him and, after he explained everything from his point of view, stopped blaming him.”

Ron raised his glass in a silent toast and motioned for him to go on.

“At the beginning, it felt strange talking to him and we had a fair share of misunderstandings,” Harry went on. “I should add that we only started to see more of each other after that thing with Ginny… One night Hermione mentioned that I stopped following him around and then she mentioned inter house relationships and I thought she was alluding at something between him and me. Anyway, I said something along the lines of ‘who said something about a relationship’ and that had given me away. I mean, nothing had happened before then, but I started thinking. And I must have given some signals – unconsciously, of course – which he picked up on and so on, you know?”

“Another one?” Ron offered, indicating towards his empty glass. Harry nodded.

“Anyway, where was I? Oh, I forgot to mention that one of our fights started because I wanted him to touch me – not like that, you pervert! – to see what kind of effect it would have on me. He didn’t like that one bit and we never got around to trying.”

“Is that supposed to be detailed information? Merlin, mate, I think now I know why certain Professors have issue with your assignments,” Ron teased. “On the other hand, I don’t think I would have done well with too many details. Anyways, I’m glad that he declined using you as some sort of guinea pig.” He thought for a moment. “You say you’re together now, don’t you? But if his touch is a threat for your health, how is it supposed to work? I mean, I shudder to think that you would willingly snog Malfoy, but the prospect of not being allowed near Hermione is rather daunting. How do you cope?”

Harry shrugged. “He’s said something about a potion. I mean, everybody involved with a Furattactus has to face that issue and, apparently, there’s something that can be done to lessen the danger to an almost nonexistent level. He’s going to talk to Snape about it. I still think we don’t need it, though. If anything, I gained something after I touched him. Pomfrey said lots of parameters improved.”

“Snape? Gods, I wish I could see his face when he’s confronted with the identity of Hogwarts’ latest lovebirds,” Ron grinned. 

“And you? What do you think about it?” Harry asked tentatively.

“I can deal. – But what do you mean? She checked you after that Quidditch game and you were doing better overall?” 

“Yes. Blood pressure and pulse, stuff like that. And I found it calming, touching him,” Harry admitted. He had told Neville already, but never mentioned it to anyone else since then.

Ron looked up from his glass. “Calming? Hmm… Like, you’ve been all keyed up before and afterwards, you felt better?”

“Yes! Exactly like that,” Harry said, happy that Ron seemed to understand what he was talking about. “Do you think there’s a connection between that and the fact that nothing severe happened to my magical levels?”

“Certainly.” Ron sat up and put his glass aside. “Did you tell Hermione about that? Or Pomfrey?”

“No, just Neville. He was worried about me and wanted to have details about the exam results.”

“And what did he say?”

“Mostly, that he thinks the effects the Furattacti have on a wizard depended on his initial magical strength. Meaning, the stronger you are the less affected you’ll be,” Harry elaborated.

“That sounds logical. Of course, I think it would also depend on how long the contact is, wouldn’t it?” Ron pondered.

“That, too. But that doesn’t explain why it had almost no effect on me, does it? I mean, I held on to his wrist for quite some time.”

“It certainly felt that way. I thought I was going to faint when I watched the both of you. – Could it be that he’s still weak? Or, let me rephrase that: has anyone mentioned whether those leeches get stronger over time? I understand that he just got into his inheritance.”

“Don’t call him that,” Harry exclaimed, emphasizing his point by gesturing wildly. “Aw, shit!” Now there was Firewhiskey all over his bed. From the other bed there was a snicker and Harry scowled in Ron’s direction. “Shut up!”

“Do you want more?”

“No,” Harry grumbled, summoning his wand and pointing it toward the mess. “ _Scourgify_.”

“Did you listen beyond what I called Malfoy?” Ron asked, exasperated.

“Could you call him Draco from now on?”

“Harry! Concentrate!” Ron snapped.

“First, you try to get me drunk and then you demand that I should focus…” Harry whined, aware that he was whining but unable to stop himself.

“Did you?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what? What I was talking about? Or if they get stronger over time?”

“The latter. Draco never mentioned anything like that. And before you ask, I also don’t know if how much damage he can do depends on the magical strength of the Furattactus. I only know that he has no control over it.”

“So, we should find out if, being the wonder boy that you are – and I don’t mean that in a condescending way – the touch of a Furattacti is indeed something positive for you. We need proof before you put your health at risk,” Ron stated. “You’re certain that Mal--Draco won’t be able to give additional information?”

“Quite sure, yes.” Harry nodded. Who’d have thought that the person to go to in order to sort through it all was Ron?

“Fine. Asking one of the Professors is out of question since ‘Mione said they haven’t got a clue.” He paused. “I’m going to owl my brothers. All of them are bright guys and maybe one of them has heard something or has an idea where to look.”

“Thank you,” Harry said quietly. His conscience was giving him a hard time. There he had been, thinking the worst of Ron and delaying their talk for days only to see that Ron was still talking to him. He was concerned about Harry’s wellbeing and willing to investigate so he, Harry, could have a normal relationship with someone Ron had every reason to dislike.

“Now, there’s no reason to get maudlin,” Ron said gruffly, looking out of his depth. He summoned Harry’s glass and refilled it. “Time to get a teensy bit drunk, I reckon.”

Harry agreed readily and so that was what they did.

Half a pint glass later, Harry had told Ron all about how he and Draco had gone from forming a tentative friendship to being a couple. Another five gulps later, Ron was honestly able to be happy for them and they started comparing notes on the positive and negative traits of their respective partners.

Unfortunately, Neville wasn’t happy with them when he came back to the dorm hours later. But, by that time, both of them were fast asleep and snoring loudly and, in Neville’s eyes, the room looked a mess as he told them in no uncertain terms the following day. Of course, someone who hadn’t participated in the pillow fight might look at it differently.

\--

“Listen, Draco, I tried this stupid potion four times now and every bloody time I had to throw up afterwards. I’m allergic to it or something like that. No matter, my body just doesn’t tolerate it. That much is certain.” Harry was starting to get desperate. 

Snape hadn’t provided them with the potion, something like an immunisation against the Furattactus’ magic. He claimed that they should give themselves a little longer to get to know each other before they went any further. Of course, Harry and Draco, being horny teenage boys, hadn’t thought to heed his advice and Draco had consulted the library. It also helped that he had done a lot of research already – the super secret project he had been working on and refused to tell Harry about it. Looking back, that might have actually have been for the better. Harry would have been shocked, knowing that Draco planned to seduce him one day. Therefore, it took him less than a weekend to find the receipt for the potion and brew it in an old, deserted classroom near his room, thanks to the, very pricy, ingredients his parents had sent him. 

Now it looked like they had come to a standstill. Every snogging session had ended when Harry had bolted to the nearest bathroom, being violently sick. And while he was willing to try without the potion, Draco categorically refused to put him in danger.

“Maybe I made a mistake during the brewing process?” Draco suggested and Harry sighed.

“You checked five times? Six times? How often? Seriously, I don’t think that’s the issue. And don’t blame it on the ingredients, either. I don’t think your parents would send you shabby stuff.”

Draco looked like he would start crying any moment. “But what can we do? If nothing was wrong with the batch I made, then it won’t matter if Snape did the next…”

“Actually, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Harry said cautiously. He didn’t like to destroy Draco’s hopes, but the way he saw it, there was no reason for them to fool themselves into believing the impossible.

“Oh,” Draco whispered. 

“Draco, please… I told you that I felt good when we touched during that bloody match. Nothing severe happened to me, right? Maybe I don’t need the potion to build a tolerance, hmm? Have you ever thought about that? My body wasn’t fazed when we touched; maybe it’s also able to generally protect itself from a Furattactus’ touch. We won’t know until we try,” Harry pleaded.

“And that’s not just your stupid Gryffindor stubbornness speaking? I know you’ve wanted to test your theory for quite some time now.”

“It’s not just my assumption. Ron also happens to think that way,” Harry said, hoping mentioning Ron’s name would make an impact.

“Weasley thinks that way, too?” Hope returned to Draco’s voice and he leaned forward eagerly.

“That I might react differently from any other person? Yes. He promised to ask his brothers for more, but so far none of them have gotten back to him.”

“But no one can live with one of _us_ without relying on the potion,” Draco argued. “Now that I’m aware of it, I remember that my father never touched me without those gloves. I mean, he didn’t want to harm me and there was no way for them to know if I would turn out normally or as a Furattactus – he didn’t want to take the risk. And the dietary supplement the elves placed beside my mother’s plate every morning has to be the potion. I just never thought to question it before.”

“I believe you. But that’s still no proof that it’s impossible.”

Draco chewed on his lip, his forehead wrinkling in concentration as he thought, no doubt trying to come up with a reason, anything, to deny Harry even though he would be punishing himself along the way.

Suddenly, Draco huffed and jumped to his feet, startling Harry with the sudden movement. Before he could react, though, Draco had tackled him. Now he was lying on his back, hopefully well hidden in the high grass, because otherwise the whole school would be able to see him staring up into Draco Malfoy’s eyes, an amazed and love struck expression on his face. 

Tearing his gloves off his hands, Draco leaned down. Then he took Harry’s face in both hands and captured his lips with his own. The kiss didn’t last long. It only took a blink of an eye until Draco pushed himself upright again and came to sit beside him, looking as if nothing had happened. Only his harsh breathing betrayed his seemingly unconcerned demeanour.

“Wow…” Harry touched his lips. 

“Do you feel any different?” Draco asked, his eyes searching Harry’s.

“They’re tingling,” Harry said dazedly.

“Harry!” Draco snapped, shaking him. “I’m not talking about your lips, you know! Um, mine too, by the way…” Draco grinned briefly. “Seriously, how are you?”

The rough handling helped him come out of his stupor and Harry took stock of himself. After a short while, he smiled up at Draco, “I’m feeling fine. Nothing’s wrong with me, I’m not tired or anything. Just…content.”

Draco was obviously relieved, but he still wheedled Harry into going to the infirmary and letting Pomfrey do a quick scan to ensure that his feeling wasn’t betraying him.

“Mr Potter, you amaze me,” Pomfrey said as she lowered her wand. “I don’t know how you did it, but your levels increased immensely since last time.”

“Oh.” A wide grin formed on his face. 

“Why did you want me to do another test? Did something happen that made you fear for your health?”

Well, he had known that she wouldn’t let him go without demanding a few answers, Harry told himself. The school nurse always helped before asking questions, but she wasn’t easily fooled.

“Mr Potter? Has there been another incident with Mr Malfoy?” 

Harry winced. If he had just been quicker with a reply, her thoughts would not have gone into that direction.

“Um, no, not really. I just wanted to know if there’d be any long-term consequences. But apparently my body restored the missing magic in my core,” he explained hastily.

“You misunderstood me. Your levels are higher than ever,” Pomfrey corrected. “Whatever you did, it boosted your magic. I’m quite impressed.”

Harry blinked. He was stronger than before? 

“Is there anything else I can do for you? You’re looking a bit peaky suddenly.” The witch felt for a temperature and Harry forced himself to keep still. He didn’t want to alienate her and, moreover, felt bad for lying.

“I think I’m going to go outside for a while. The sun might do me good…” he muttered.

“Haven’t you just come in?” Pomfrey frowned. “Because otherwise, I’m wondering where the grass tangled up in your hair is coming from.”

“Oh.”

“Out with you!” She shooed him out of her office. “And next time, get your excuse ready before you enter my lair.” She winked at him.

Harry fled.

\--

Harry was almost sad that it had been impossible to wait a few months until Hermione learned of the news that he was not only immune, but gained something from the touch of a Furattactus. It would have been the best birthday present he could give her. She had listened to it all and then she had left the common room in a run.

No one expected her back for a long time.

“Thanks, mate, I didn’t want to spend the weekend with her anyway,” Ron griped when the portrait hole shut behind her.

Harry winced. “I’m sorry, Ron, but I meant to tell her since yesterday and… Sorry. I would invite you to come with me and Draco, but I’m not sure if you’d like that. Would you?”

“You’re honestly asking me to accompany you and your lover to Hogsmeade?”

“Sure.”

“Well, if that’s not going to be a barrel of laughs…”

\--

The three boys spent a strange but happy day in each other’s company. At first, conversation was a bit stilted and took place either between Harry and Draco or Harry and Ron. Only when they reached Spintwitches and the conversation went to Quidditch, the situation changed.

Harry withdrew gladly and watched them fight and banter, praying they would learn to get along. To his relief, the tone was harsh but never cruel and after a while, he felt safe to leave them on their own while he made a quick detour to the bookshop. He had promised Hermione to pick up a few books for her since she was now occupied otherwise.

“Where have you been? At first, you’re right beside us and the next time we look up, you’re gone,” Ron complained when Harry rejoined their side.

“Just picking up some books Hermione wanted. Sorry. I honestly thought you’d never notice.”

Draco frowned. “Feeling a bit left out, Harry?” he smirked.

“Ha ha… No, not really. But I thought I’d take the chance. None of you needed to go to the bookshop, right?” Harry asked belatedly. He should have asked before. If they did, he could have saved himself the detour and he wouldn’t be out of breath and sweaty now.

“No, I owl-ordered what I wanted last week,” Draco said and Ron merely shook his head. Harry’s question had been directed at Draco, anyways. 

“Perfect. – Now, what do we do now?”

“Honeydukes,” Ron decided, heading towards the shop without waiting for their agreement.

“Oh, now? Could we wait until after lunch?” Draco whined. “If we go there now, I’m going to buy lots of things I don’t really want and then I have to eat it all before it gets bad. And then I’m going to get sick. We don’t want that.”

“But I’m hungry,” Ron complained. “I need sugar!”

“Merlin… How old are you?” Harry look from the redhead to the blond, shaking his head. “We can go there now. Ron, you can pick something so you won’t drop dead any minute now and Draco, you and I are going to wait outside.”

Ron nodded happily while Draco was pouting. 

“That’s torture. I’m going to smell all those yummy sweets and have to watch the other students as they carry out bags filled to the brim…”

Harry prayed for patience.

\--

No one collapsed during their day in Hogsmeade. They did as Harry had suggested, and Ron kindly shared some of his sweets. Draco ate enough to be satisfied but little enough not to spoil his appetite for lunch. Harry basked in the knowledge that two of his favourite persons were civil to each other, though his gratitude was mostly directed towards Ron. Considering how Draco had treated him/them over the years, he was coping amazingly well.

Lunch was had at The Three Broomsticks with Hannah and Neville who they ran into in front of the Herbology shop. Draco, who had been on his best behaviour all day, made an extra effort for Neville, and Neville, being the good friend that he was, tried his best not to jerk back when he passed him the salt.

When Harry dropped into his bed that night, he fell asleep with a smile.

\--

There were times when having a boyfriend who was in the lucky position of owning a single dorm was a definite plus factor, Harry thought as he skipped the remaining steps and hopped to Draco’s door. While Hermione and Ron were in an almost similar position, they had to deal with the watchful eyes of the Gryffindors. Draco, on the other hand, had every bit of freedom he wanted.

Harry knocked and moments later he was pulled inside the room and into Draco’s arms. He kicked the door shut in time before he was dragged toward the bed.

“I have,” Draco announced in a grave tone, “decided that tonight is _the_ night.” He pushed Harry backwards and, when he flopped down onto the mattress, Draco followed immediately. “Any objections?”

“No, sir!” Harry grinned and reached up, pulling Draco, formerly propped up on arms, onto his body. “Whew.”

“I you’re trying to tell me that I’m fat--” Draco started.

“No, you’re perfect. Now kindly shut up,” Harry whispered against his lips and pulled him down the remaining inch. As soon as Draco’s mouth was on his, he parted his lips, running his tongue over Draco’s lips. 

Draco shifted in his arms, but grunted when Harry loosened his hold of him. “Just trying to find a position that won’t cost me the feeling in my arms,” he muttered and allowed Harry’s tongue into his mouth.

Both of them moaned quietly.

After a few moments, Harry closed his eyes and let himself relax as Draco’s tongue pushed his out and chased it back into his own mouth. Fingers carded through his hair, smoothing it out of his face. Everything was wonderful and soothing and quite arousing. 

“Let’s get you out if these clothes,” Draco murmured in a much-needed pause, used to give them ample time to breathe.

“Hmm,” Harry agreed, pushing himself up onto his elbows.

“Hmm, no. I was talking of me when I said us,” Draco corrected, motioning for him to lie back again. Harry obeyed, and Draco started peeling him out of his shirt and trousers. “That still looks best on you,” he commended eventually, raking his eyes over Harry’s body, looking very pleased with what he saw.

“All I’m wearing are my socks and glasses.”

“And you’re looking delicious like that.” 

“Maybe you’d like to adjust your own attire?” Harry suggested, smirking. From the beginning, they both had been at ease when it came to being naked in front of each other. 

“Naturally.” Draco was already tugging on his shoes, too impatient to open the laces. The trousers and the shirt were next, followed by his underwear. “Like what you see?”

Harry sat up to get a better look. He loved what he saw. Draco was slightly taller than him, but just about an inch or so. Both of them had a slender built, perfect for playing Seeker. The game, or rather the training, had shaped their bodies over the years and left them with enough muscles to appear strong but not burly.

So far, he didn’t know if Draco’s skin was naturally smooth, mostly hairless or if that was the result of a vigorous personal hygiene. In Harry’s opinion, both possibilities were equally likely. But, whatever it was, he liked it.

Harry himself was also far from what could be called hairy, but, for example, his chest wasn’t totally free of hairs. There were two tiny patches around his nipples and, as long as Draco wouldn’t complain, he intended to keep them. His legs and lower arms were also covered in fine, dark hairs, but when he had mentioned that he contemplated to get rid of them, Draco had asked him to leave them alone. And so he did.

“I like it when you’re all dreamy, but tonight we have plans,” Draco said as he was getting into bed, coming to lie on his side and facing Harry. He reached for the glasses and took them off Harry’s nose, placing them on the bed table. “You won’t need them in the foreseeable future,” he promised when Harry reached for his wrist, trying to stop him.

“Okay.” Harry licked his lips. Somehow, he found that he was getting nervous. He wasn’t a virgin, hadn’t been one for quite a while, but the prospect of having sex with Draco was still something special. He didn’t think it was so much due to the fact that it would be the first penetrative sex with a boy, but because it was Draco. Draco, Harry had learned in the few short weeks they had been together, was something special.

“Nervous?” Draco asked quietly. They had talked about that before, so he knew what to expect of Harry, but he obviously still felt bad when he noticed his concerned expression.

“Not really.”

“I thought so. Listen, there’s nothing to be afraid of. I won’t hurt you,” the blond promised, skidding closer, and drew Harry into a warm embrace.

“You said it would be slightly painful in the beginning,” Harry said, burying his face in Draco’s hair. He loved its clean, lemony smell.

“Yes. And that can’t be changed. I just told you beforehand so you know what to expect. But I’m going to take care of you and you’ll love it!” Draco said in a no-nonsense tone and Harry believed him. “And now forget about that for now.” He pulled back a little and as soon as he was able, he started kissing Harry passionately. Harry had a hard time keeping up with him and forgot about everything else.

A hand closing around his cock pulled him back into reality. Harry gasped and his eyes snapped open, meeting Draco’s calm, partly glazed-over gaze. 

“Nothing’s going to happen. Lie back and enjoy,” Draco instructed before he continued to kiss him senseless. It didn’t take Harry long to relax once more. He occupied himself by stroking Draco’s sides, kneading his arse when he reached it and otherwise just clinging to him when he thought he was going to explode any moment.

Sometime later, Harry heard him muttering something under his breath, figuring that he must have summoned something because he was fiddling with whatever it was behind Harry’s back.

“Harry,” Draco said quietly. “Ready?”

For a moment, he wanted to smack him. Couldn’t he have just got on with it without alerting Harry to what was about to happen? But then the gratitude won. If he had just shoved his finger up there, Harry would undoubtedly have jumped and possibly hurt himself.

“Hmm.” He nodded. He was ready.

As he was waiting for the pain, he almost missed the slippery intrusion of a finger. Nothing hurt; it felt a bit odd at most.

“Wow.”

Draco searched his eyes. “Okay?”

Harry merely nodded, grinning when Draco appeared to be pleased.

“Another one…” was all the warning he got. He didn’t have enough time to tense up, but it still wasn’t totally fine.

“Ouch…”

“Really? You don’t feel too tight around my fingers. I was going to say that you’re doing exceptionally great,” Draco commented, clearly confused.

“I think it’s more out of surprise than real pain,” Harry mused, wiggling a bit. He tried to lessen the pressure but while he did that, he suddenly noticed that it actually wasn’t so bad.

Draco smirked. “Wonderful.” He kept his right hand in place, got to his knees and turned himself so that he was lying upside down with his feet pointing towards the headboard, still facing Harry.

Harry understood what was expected of him and reached for Draco’s erection, now conveniently situated. There was the risk of him getting a crick in his neck, but he was prepared to take it. His tongue darted out, giving a few tentative licks that made Draco shiver. Then, he angled his head so he was able to take Draco’s cock into his mouth, swallowing repeatedly. Harry was breathing hard through his nose, but he wouldn’t let up for anything now. Not when Draco made those little panting noises and started to pull almost roughly on Harry, struggling and mostly succeeding to keep the movement of his other hand slow and gentle.

“Another one?” Draco asked in a raspy voice. 

Draco’s cock sliding out of his mouth, Harry blinked. It took him a moment to comprehend what he was asked.

“Hmm.”

Fortunately, Draco interpreted this as the positive reply it was meant to be and, pulling his fingers out for a moment, slowly inserted three this time.

Harry gasped. “Merlin…”

That…burned. It wasn’t exactly painful, but it was definitely way more uncomfortable than only two had been. Instinctively, he tried to pull his arse out of Draco’s reach but he was held in place.

“Oh no, you won’t. Stay still, breathe and try to relax. Give yourself a few minutes and it’s going to be just fine,” Draco instructed. He kept his hand mostly still, only one sneaky finger wiggled a bit until he hit some spot inside of Harry, making him see stars. 

“Oh!”

“Harry, meet your prostate. Prostate, meet your lucky owner.”

His earlier notion to flee long forgotten, Harry pushed back against Draco’s fingers.

Draco chuckled. “I take it you like it then?”

He nodded frantically and Draco complied, pushing his fingers in all the way. Harry groaned, shifting his legs. He wanted to spread them and, at the same time, he wanted to brace his muscles, hoping to increase that wonderful feeling.

His conscience kicked in, reminding him of Draco’s neglected dick in front of his face. He wanted to make him feel good, too, but it was so hard to concentrate on anything when he was barely able to breathe regularly, let alone make his hand move the way he wanted, not to mention his lips and throat.

Draco seemed to notice his dilemma. “Not now. I’m looking forward to that blow job, but, right now I want you to focus on yourself.” He reached for Harry’s wrist and moved the hand aside. “Roll onto your stomach,” he demanded, following Harry’s movement when he obeyed.

Next, Draco asked him to place a few pillows beneath his hips and encouraged him to get comfortable, resting his weight on them instead of on his legs. How he managed to move his right hand through all of this without missing a beat, Harry would never know. He was too busy trying to coordinate his breathing and moaning to contemplate it.

“I wish you could see yourself right like this.” Draco removed his fingers and pushed Harry’s legs apart. “You’re looking better by the minute,” he commended.

Harry wanted to laugh or say something sarcastic but his mind was unable to communicate with the rest of his body. He only managed to grab another pillow and hug it to himself, and then Draco’s hands were back. Harry’s ability to think coherently went right out the window when Draco parted his cheeks, applying more of the lubrication, before he chucked the jar aside. 

“Okay?”

Harry must have nodded or otherwise showed his assent, because he was breeched again, this time by something blunter. He couldn’t say if it felt like a cock but it was unlike the fingers, which didn’t leave much choice.

Draco stopped right after the head was inside and allowed Harry some time to adjust, pleading with his muscles to relax already. When he didn’t feel like he was being ripped open any longer, he briefly wondered what all the hype was about, feeling a bit let down. And then, suddenly, it started to feel good, really good. He knew the feeling of being connected to someone from the times he had sex with girls, but being the one on the receiving end was new. And, for him, it was so much better. 

The burning was still there but it was overlaid by arousal and contentment. Harry’s hands fisted the pillow he was hugging to his chest. Draco wasn’t yet moving inside of him and he already doubted he could take much more.

“Are you okay?” Draco ran his hands over Harry’s back and sides. They glided easily over his skin, slick with sweat.

“Perfect. Move!”

A sharp slap on his arse let him know that Draco had understood the command and didn’t appreciate being rushed. It stung a little and Harry groaned. Draco chuckled and pulled out almost all the way, made him wait one or two seconds before thrusting inside again.

Harry yelped. 

When Draco repeated the thrusting motions, settling on a fast and steady pace, Harry scrambled to his hands and knees, pushing back when Draco thrust forward. He remembered how everything intensified when the partner being fucked squeezed the cock inside them and experimentally clenched his muscles around Draco. 

Draco rewarded him with slumping forward and losing his rhythm for a moment. “Harry!” He didn’t sound cross, on the contrary. He showed his gratefulness by reaching around him, grabbing Harry’s cock and stroking it, making Harry shudder violently. 

There was nothing coordinated about their coupling any longer. Both of them were panting and moaning, striving for their orgasms. They didn’t care about anything but themselves at the moment and Harry loved it.

Draco was holding him, wanking him, fucking him. Nothing was expected of Harry but taking what he needed from Draco and letting himself go.

He felt his climax approach in huge steps. For a moment, he tried to forestall it, tried to wait. And then he shuddered, screamed and came all over Draco’s hand and the sheets beneath him. 

Draco held him in place, thrusting erratically and followed him over the edge, crying out, before he collapsed onto Harry. His knees buckling under the additional weight, they fell onto the mattress in a boneless heap.

Harry ignored the slight pain in his backside, the wet patch under him and the way Draco’s elbow was pressing into his side. He looked at the sweaty but elated face of his boyfriend and cocked an eyebrow. “Again?”

\--

Nothing and no one disturbed them during the night and they were able to repeat that pleasurable experience two more times. Harry was certain that he didn’t fall asleep, he fell into a coma.

Getting up the next morning was hard, harder than he had anticipated. He also hadn’t foreseen the persistent ache in his arse, though that one was easily explained when he thought back on what they had done. No wonder his body was protesting.

Not that Harry minded the slight inconvenience. He’d gladly walk funny all his life if that was the price he had to pay for a night like that. Draco seemed to share that opinion, for he too sported a slight limp and a wide grin.

Unfortunately, their happy, post-coital bubble burst the moment they walked out the door, heading towards the Great Hall and running into none other than Snape.

The Professor was about to greet Draco, but when his gaze travelled from the blond to Harry, one step behind him, his mouth snapped shut. He blinked.

“Good morning, Professor,” Draco said, trying to ignore the storm clouds forming over their heads.

“Potter, I gather you did not come down here simply to escort Mr Malfoy to breakfast?” Snape addressed Harry, black eyes blazing with all sorts of emotion he couldn’t place.

Harry gulped. Of all the people to witness them leaving the room together, it had to be Snape. Bloody hell!

“I was not asking just to hear myself speak, you insufferable idiot!” Snape spat, advancing on Harry and making him flinch. His back had already touched the wall; he wasn’t able to retreat further and therefore was helplessly exposed to Snape’s wrath.

“Professor…” Draco interrupted meekly, trying to gain his attention.

“Silence!” the Potions master demanded, whirling around and glaring at Draco until the boy hunched his shoulders, cowering under his steely gaze.

Merlin, one would think they were the first students he had even seen coming out of the same bedroom. It wasn’t like they had flaunted their sex life in his face or anything like that. And they were of age. So what in blazes was Snape’s problem, Harry wondered, fuming.

“My office, now!” Snape barked, twirling around with his robes billowing behind him. He stalked down the hall, expecting them to follow. Neither of the boys dared to dawdle.

They shared a few timid glances, but didn’t think it wise to utter a word. Even though their teacher was far ahead, they feared he’d hear every syllable and make them pay double if they said anything not to his liking. Generally, speaking didn’t seem like a good idea.

Snape had already opened the door and held it open. “In!”

The boys complied, their feelings ranging between righteous anger and fear. What did he know? What would he do to them?

“Sit!” came the ‘kind’ invitation and Draco sat down instantly. Harry moved more cautiously but managed to take a seat before Snape lost what was left of his patience.

Snape, leaning over his desk, watched them dispassionately. “Oh Merlin… That just proves it…” he muttered under his breath, not elaborating for the boys’ sake.

After an uncomfortable pause, he asked in a menacing tone, “Am I correct in assuming that you two dimwits had intercourse? Mr Malfoy was acting as the dominant partner?” When they nodded, seeing no reason why they should lie even though it was none of his concern, he groaned. “Please tell me it’s been just this once,” he said almost pleadingly.

Various, though equally disturbing, thoughts occurred to Harry. Could Snape actually be jealous? If he was, with whom would he want to swap places? Harry shuddered. Or maybe there was something Draco and he hadn’t known and now one of them was in danger. The possibilities were endless, and Harry grew more anxious by the second. 

He chanced a glance at Draco. His boyfriend was trying to appear calm, but he held himself far too rigid to achieve that impression.

Snape shook his head, sinking onto his seat. “Are you that stupid? Are you arrogant enough to assume that nothing will happen to you of all people? Do you just not care one whit about your future? I fail to see how… No.”

“I… I don’t understand,” Harry whispered, utterly confused. What was Snape talking about? They had done nothing wrong. 

“Potter, I was referring to the idiocy that must have possessed you to have sexual intercourse with a Furattactus after he came into his inheritance.”

“Um.” Harry blinked. Oh. Could the Professor be worried about him because he wasn’t aware that he didn’t need the potion? He hadn’t known that Draco had brewed it successfully, had he? And he couldn’t know that Harry was doing just fine without it; better, even.

“The potion--” he began, only to be interrupted.

“No potion will help you, you idiot child!”

“But I brewed it and we found out that he doesn’t need it,” Draco chimed in, looking troubled. Harry felt sorry for him despite the fact that both of them knew that Snape’s worries were unfounded.

“What? You brewed what?” Snape demanded, his voice rising until he almost ended up yelling.

Draco looked taken aback. “The Facresentum potion, of course. I thought you were worried about Harry’s health, Professor,” he explained deliberately patiently.

“Drop that attitude!” Snape took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I don’t dare to think what you did to determine that this potion is not needed. I never heard of someone not being affected by the touch of a Furattactus, but why am I surprised? It is Potter we are talking about…” Snape looked defeated. “That problem aside…” He pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly fighting with himself on how to proceed.

“Professor?” Draco prompted. He was really spooked by now, Harry noticed. His eyes were wide, the hands, though clenched into fists by his side, were trembling minutely.

“I am not nearly paid enough for this… – Furattacti have one other trait. The way you are acting leads me to believe that you were unaware of it. Mr Malfoy, you are not only a hazard for most human beings because you take their life force, you are also able to impregnate anyone, including males,” he said, matter-of-factly. 

Harry was appalled by the rudeness, but the shock prevailed when he realized that Snape was not joking.

Draco gaped like a fish out of water and part of Harry was glad to see that. He needed to see that he was not the only one shocked beyond belief by that revelation.

Snape continued. His tone was not really kinder, but with laced with pity. “Mr Potter, you should let Madam Pomfrey scan you. If you are pregnant, there are a few things you should know, options you need to be made aware of. – Don’t look at me like that. I wasn’t alluding to anything, Mr Potter. I am no advocate for abortion, no matter how young the parent. There are always many things to consider before one is able to make an informed decision.” He sighed, now massaging his temples. Harry, watching him uneasily, was convinced that this wasn’t the first occasion where Snape was forced to deliver that particular speech.

“Mr Malfoy, I am going to have to talk to your parents. You should have been informed of that situation. Since they are currently not at hand, I feel it is my duty to make sure that you understand one thing: no potion or spell will prevent a pregnancy. If you would prefer not to be a parent come next Christmas, I suggest you opt for celibacy…or at least forego having intercourse with you being the active partner. Nothing will bring one hundred percent security but avoiding sexual relations altogether, but I am aware that demanding this of a teenage boy might be a bit farfetched.”

They looked at each other. No more sex? At all? Or, if they were willing to risk it, Harry was allowed to fuck Draco? But that thought didn’t console him, not when he had just learned what he had been missing all this time.

Draco didn’t look happy, either, hanging his head and staring at the floor.

“How do you know, Professor?” Harry eventually asked feebly, harbouring a little hope that the Potions Master was only knowing it from hearsay. 

“I used to be friends with a Furattactus. It’s a remainder of that time that I still take the potion. It doesn’t do any harm and I’m used to it,” he replied without the usual rancour in his voice. 

Harry remembered how it had been Snape who held up Draco’s shirt for Madam Pomfrey when she was performing a quick exam after that fateful Quidditch match. He hadn’t wondered about that picture before, but Snape hadn’t been wearing any form of protection when he touched the blond. Damn! He spoke the truth…

“I…” Harry was at a loss for words.

To his credit, Snape didn’t dismiss them now that he had warned them, effectively shocking them into silence. He also didn’t gloat. He kept his eyes on the desk in front of him and waited, not moving a muscle.

“Professor, have you ever tried to enhance the existing contraceptive potions? Or to develop another?” Draco looked at him beseechingly. Harry wholeheartedly agreed. Wasn’t Snape supposed to be a genius in front of a cauldron? Not that he would have ever dared to ask, but he appreciated Draco’s effort.

“I did not. Sadly, other things always stood in the way of that research,” Snape said quietly. “I might look into it in the future, but frankly, Mr Malfoy, I do not think there is anything that will stop the fertility of your kind.”

“That can’t be true,” Draco muttered, jumping to his feet quick enough to make the chair he had occupied fall backwards and clatter to the floor.

Snape didn’t rebuke him for the racket. He didn’t tell him to pick it up and he didn’t even draw his wand to restore order in his office. Harry allowed himself to sit back again, loosening the grip on his wand under the table.

“Are you coming?” Draco asked from the door, his hand poised over the handle.

Harry chewed his lip, looking from Draco to Snape. What was he supposed to do? Running out without being dismissed would earn him Snape’s ire, remaining seated might cause Draco to snap. No option sounded exactly safe.

“Mr Malfoy, come back and take a seat,” Snape said. He didn’t make it sound like a suggestion.

Draco didn’t respond immediately, though he dropped his hand back to his side. Harry felt for him. If he were able to clear his thoughts, reality would sink in and he would be the first one running out of this room, possibly yelling his head off. For the moment, he was too confused to make sense of anything.

Snape got to his feet and went to Draco. He put his hand on the slender neck and steered him back toward the seats in front of the desk. “Pick it up and take a seat, Draco,” he said gently but firmly. When Draco still didn’t obey, he bent and righted the chair himself, pushing Draco into it. “Thank you.”

“I would like to call Madam Pomfrey here so she can do the necessary scans, Potter,” Snape announced then, already on his way to the fireplace.

“Why?”

“To determine how much of a problem we have. You could be pregnant, we need to know as soon as possible,” he said curtly.

“I can’t be pregnant,” Harry insisted. That wasn’t possible. It was simply unheard of; even in the wizarding world men couldn’t have children.

“Potter, believe me when I say that, when I got up earlier, I imagined a different start to my day. I did not see me foregoing breakfast and teaching a private sex education class in front of two clueless, little idiots. I am not here out of joy.” Snape turned toward the hearth and fire-called Pomfrey.

Draco was curled up in his chair, his head buried in his hands. Harry wanted nothing more than to take him and get out of there, hiding with Draco until everything was normal again. As it was, he still didn’t even dare to leave this chair, afraid that Snape would hex him if he did.

It was rather pathetic. Technically, he was an adult. He owned his own house, was able to make legal decisions for himself, he had killed a dark wizard and fought in a war. And yet, at this moment, he felt smaller than ever.

The fire flared green and the nurse stepped into the room, immediately heading for Harry. Snape must have informed her of the situation before he made room for her to step through.

Harry made a move to get up, but Pomfrey gestured for him to remain seated. She waved her wand over him in an unfamiliar motion, waited for a few seconds and repeated it. Then she addressed the Professor, who was leaning against the desk, having moved himself out of her way.

“Mr Potter is not pregnant. There were a few minor things of concern, but as long as he is not experiencing any discomfort, we should not worry.”

Harry blushed to the roots of his hair. If that infernal woman were to disclose the state of his arse to Snape, he would die. Or maybe he’d kill her first and then die out of embarrassment.

Snape nodded his thanks and quickly ushered her back out the way she had entered. He retook his seat and looked at them, his dark eyes giving nothing away.

“Mr Potter, I hope you realize how lucky you are. Once again, it seems, you got off lightly thanks to sheer dumb luck. I strongly recommend you do not try fate again, at least not until you are ready to become a parent.” He turned to Draco, not bothering to wait for a reaction. “Mr Malfoy, please cease this melodramatic behaviour. It is rather inconvenient that you were not informed right after coming into your inheritance, but it is hardly the end of the world.”

Draco’s head snapped up and he glared at their teacher. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, no doubt swallowing some nasty comments. His expression still murderous, he stood up again.

“Please excuse me, Professor.” 

This time, no one held him back as he exited the room with Harry hot on his heels.

\--

“That bloody git!” Draco yelled when he deemed them at a safe distance from the Potions Master’s office. What followed was a rant containing more swearwords than Harry had ever heard before and he couldn’t help but be impressed. He would never have imagined that someone with Draco’s background knew how to curse like that.

A few angry tears had slipped out and Draco brushed them off impatiently. When he noticed Harry’s gaze on him, he turned away.

“Oh, stop that! Did I look like I was having fun back there? Gods, that man told me I could have been pregnant! Pregnant! And a lot of the insults he was spewing were directed at me. I think I can relate to how you feel,” Harry said, trying to be comforting.

Draco sniffled. “Would it have been so bad?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“The pregnancy…”

Harry was staggered. “Uh… Well, we’ve only been together for a few weeks. Do you really think now’s the time to start discussing children?”

“Of course it’s too soon,” Draco agreed. “But if it had happened, what would you have done?”

“Draco, I don’t know!” Harry exclaimed. That whole discussion was surreal. Never in a million years had he assumed that he would have that kind of conversation with a male partner. Accepting that he wanted to be with Draco meant also coming to terms with the fact that he would never have joint biological children with him. Well, one of them could father a child, but a surrogate mother would have to be found. And all of that had crossed his mind in passing; but he hadn’t stopped to think it through. Why should he? They were still at school.

“Well, maybe you should make your mind up. It’s either accept the risk or end our relationship, isn’t it? Because I can tell you here and now: a relationship without sex is out of the question. No matter how much I might like you, I won’t subject myself to a disaster waiting to happen,” Draco declared before he spun around and fled down the hall.

Harry gaped.

\--


	5. Chapter 5

The following days were far from pleasant. While Harry was grateful that the Professor had kept the whole incident to himself – or threatened everyone he informed with death and worse should they spread the news, he still had difficulties wrapping his mind around the idea of him being able to carry a child. Draco’s reaction was even more confusing. While the other boy had been initially shocked like Harry, he seemed to take their changed reality in stride. If Harry agreed to risk it, just how many times would he have given birth until he turned twenty?

The worst thing, actually, was the unpredictability of it all. While he hadn’t set his mind against the idea of one or two children running around their home in the distant future, he didn’t like the idea of a dozen or more and the idea of popping them out _now_ was equally daunting.

Draco kept his distance, obviously deciding he had made himself clear enough and not bothering to discuss this further. His attitude was driving Harry insane. He hadn’t said with one word that he never wanted to have children and he also hadn’t said that he would have opted for an abortion or anything drastic like that. Why did the blond have to pout now instead of talking it through with Harry? 

Great! So Draco wanted kids and he wanted them with Harry. He also wouldn’t mind them now and didn’t care about the number they would end up with. Or so he made it seem.

Maybe he just wanted sex?

Had he ever stopped thinking about what would happen if? 

Another question that wouldn’t leave Harry alone was the situation with the Malfoys. They just had the one child. He knew Mr Malfoy was a Furattactus. That only allowed two options: They didn’t love each other and therefore only had sex to conceive an heir or, despite what Snape believed he knew, the danger of getting pregnant wasn’t unmanageable. Harry would love to ask Draco for details on his parents’ relationship, but since the berk wasn’t talking to him, that task proved to be impossible.

\--

Hermione, being the first to stumble across him after that disastrous meeting in Snape’s office, was the only one of his friends who knew about what happened. She had been almost as shocked as Harry and it had lifted his spirit, knowing that he wasn’t the only one. Of course she had once more committed every waking hour to research, but all she had found on the topic wasn’t exactly satisfying. 

Yes, in rare cases, males could be impregnated, provided at least one of them had creature blood running through his veins. Even then it was a rare occurrence according to the author of that particular tome. He estimated that only about two or three species would be able to pull it off. 

After another day, she had also been able to tell him that a wizard’s body was, in theory, able to adapt to a child growing within it. She hadn’t been able to describe the changes that would take place in said wizard’s body and solved that issue by thrusting a book in his hands, the correct pages marked, and leaving him to digest it on his own. Harry hadn’t been thrilled with the information that had been given.

Unfortunately, that had been everything that was to be found on that subject. Harry didn’t feel much better informed than he had been before. He had known it was possible – that was confirmed, and he had figured that there would be a way for him to adapt – that was confirmed and he wished more than anything to get those pictures out of his head.

\--

Harry had perfected his wanking technique, but sadly it still wasn’t as satisfying as being with Draco had been. He could time his climax by the minute and tested everything he could think of and, eventually, some more. It was stimulating for his imagination but left himself yearning for something else.

Eventually, he ended his efforts. Getting sick and tired of your own hand at the tender age of eighteen was too frustrating to allow it to happen.

“Harry? Could we talk after class?” Draco whispered one glorious day during Potions, passing by Harry’s table on his way to Snape’s desk, vial in hand.

“Sure,” Harry nodded, stopping himself in time from pulling the blond into his arms. 

It was quite distressing how much he had missed him. They had been together about the same period of time their separation had lasted so far, and Harry had a lot of moments each day where he paused and wondered what Draco would say or what Draco would do. No matter how often he mentally smacked himself, he couldn’t help it.

The rest of the lesson crawled along and then, finally, they were dismissed. As he followed his classmates out the door, Snape and Harry’s eyes met for a moment. Harry thought he saw something strange, but when he took another look, it was gone. Maybe the Professor had watched Draco talking to him and was now wondering what it had been about. He couldn’t be happy that they might get back together, could he? Snape was not interested in his student’s petty lives.

Draco was waiting for him outside of the classroom and fell into step with Harry when he exited the room.

“Are you hungry? Otherwise we could skip lunch and go for a short walk…?” Draco suggested.

Upon asking his stomach for a quick status report, Harry nodded, but asked to stop by the Great Hall on their way out. He wanted to grab a few rolls or something like that to eat on the way. He wasn’t exactly hungry, but going without anything to eat until dinner didn’t sound good to him.

Harry went to get his rolls, stuffing them, wrapped in napkins, into the pockets of his robes. They had already left their bags in Draco’s room and now they were headed outside, walking side by side. If their hands brushed against each other from time to time, it wasn’t deliberate.

Once outside, they turned towards the Quidditch pitch, figuring that walking there and back would be possible within the allotted timeframe.

Keeping his head down, eyes fixed on the way ahead, Harry prayed that Draco had wanted to see him in order to make up. He’d just drop dead if the intended conversation was meant to end things irrevocably between them.

“Father owled me the other day,” Draco announced out of the blue.

“Okay…” Harry didn’t dare to breathe. 

“Snape read him the riot act – of course he didn’t call it that way – and kindly asked him to contact me. He mentioned that I was going to enter into a relationship with someone and suggested that, if they didn’t want to become grandparents within the year, he should make sure that I understood everything there was to know about the Furattacti,” Draco said. “If you though that day in Snape’s office had been embarrassing, be glad you didn’t have to witness the lecture I had to endure from Father. He was…very thorough.”

Harry winced in sympathy. 

“Well, anyway, the point is, unless I accept the possibility of being a dad sooner rather than later, I’m going to be alone until I think I can cope,” Draco concluded sadly. “I don’t suppose you learned anything new…?”

“Not particularly. I know that Snape was right in everything he said, except that I didn’t find proof about the Furattacti belonging among those super fertile species.” Harry listed what Hermione had told him, leaving aside the gory details of what would happen to him. “Just one thing: It is said that potions and spells don’t work. What about Muggle contraception?”

Draco looked intrigued.

“They have something called condoms. It’s a thin sheath of plastic – plastic is an artificial material they can press in all sorts of forms, that is placed over your dick, so it’s serves as a barrier between you and the partner you’re fucking. The come gets caught in it and nothing ends up where you don’t want it to be,” Harry explained, blushing. He had never thought he’d have to talk about condoms to someone who didn’t have the slightest idea what he was talking about. “It’s quite common to use them since they don’t only offer protection from unwanted pregnancies but also help keep you safe from diseases.”

“And you really think that this is going to work? I mean, I don’t know what kind of killer sperm I’ve got, but from what I understood, it’s quite impressive.”

“Can I ask you something personal?” Harry dared to ask, unsure of the reaction he would get.

Draco simply nodded.

“Your parents… If the risk is as high as everyone says, how come you don’t have at least a dozen siblings running around somewhere?”

“Uh…” Draco sighed. “Well, you see, my mother got hit with a curse once and from that moment onwards she was no longer able to reproduce. It’s not like she was barren from birth or something, but some part or other of her ceased functioning correctly. With anyone else besides my father she wouldn’t have been able to have any kids…and so she had me.”

“Wow.”

“Indeed. No one knows how it was possible, but here I am,” Draco said with a crooked smile.

“And I’m grateful for that,” Harry admitted, blushing again. What was wrong with him today? He was acting like a twelve year old girl.

Draco’s smile widened, gaining sincerity. “Thank you…”

“But what do we do now? Do you think the condoms could actually work?”

“Hmm… I don’t know. I’ve never seen one of those things. Do you have some?”

Harry shrugged. “Unfortunately, no. Since I’ve never had sex with a Muggle, I never needed to concern myself with acquiring a pack or two. But they are easily enough to procure. Well, in the Muggle world.”

Draco pondered this. “I don’t think we’ll be able to leave here in the near future…but I’m going to find a way,” he promised confidently. “It would be the perfect solution.”

“Even if…” Harry started before he paused. Was he really certain that this was what he truly wanted? He decided that it was. “Even if they don’t promise one hundred percent security in our case, I still want to get back with you.”

“Thank you,” Draco whispered before he enfolded Harry in a tight embrace.

\--

Harry had briefly entertained the idea of asking Hermione to get them some condoms, but decided against it. If Draco would be the one to procure them, it might help him to know that he had actively done something to keep them safe.

A few days later, during Charms, Harry reached into his bag, feeling around for his quill, when his fingers brushed against a small foil package. Not thinking anything about it, he took it out to get a look and almost yelped. Merlin! Someone had placed a condom in his bag.

“Mr Potter, is there a problem I might help you with?” Flitwick asked from behind his desk. Harry flushed a dark red and quickly stuffed the package back into his bag. 

“No, uh, thank you,” he stuttered. Across the room, a certain blond fiend could be seen chuckling into his hand. Harry scowled, vowing to hunt him down after class.

Soon he got his opportunity and, grabbing Draco by the scruff of the neck, he marched him out of the classroom. Sadly, he remained unfazed.

“Care to explain why I had a condom in hand when I sifted through my bag earlier on?”

“Uh, well, it’s your bag,” Draco replied cheekily.

“And I think you’re the one who put it in there!”

“Hmm, I certainly intend to put something in there…in the condom, that is.”

Harry growled. “Found out how to use them correctly already?”

“Of course,” Draco said in a calm voice. “I’ve been practicing.”

“Oh my…” Suddenly, Harry couldn’t wait for the day to turn into night already. 

“Don’t get too excited. I’ve got Quidditch practice tonight.”

“What?” Harry couldn’t believe his ears. How could he say something like that and then add that they wouldn’t be able to see each other that night?

“I think you heard me.”

“Skip it!” Harry demanded.

“But I can’t,” Draco protested. “You see, one of our opponents has this really talented Seeker. I need to be in top form for the next game to defend our chances to win the Cup.”

“Arrgh!” Harry huffed and stormed off towards his next class.

\--

Draco ditched practice that night – or maybe it had been a lie from the beginning, Harry didn’t know and he didn’t care. They ended up in Draco’s room and Draco shut the door behind them.

“Afraid you’re going to have a visitor this late?” Harry inquired, laughing, as Draco put up a few Locking Charms for good measure.

“Not particularly. But Snape saw us leaving together the other day and I wouldn’t be surprised if he kept a close watch on us ever since.”

“You think he would just barge into your room?” Harry asked incredulously. “Because I’d say he’s much too afraid of what he might see if he entered unannounced.”

“You never know with Snape,” Draco said evasively. “And now forget about him, we have more important things to do. Like playing with these…” He produced a handful of condoms and threw them on the bed.

The colourful plastic wrappings looked out of place on Draco’s anthracite bed sheets. The whole room was laid out in mostly beige with a dark green rug and the grey stone walls. The colours of the sheets varied between dark grey and black, all of them expensive and brought from home. He claimed that, now that he was living on his own, he could do it in style. Since he didn’t have anyone to impress, everything was tasteful and not meant to boast his wealth. But, of course, Harry kept those conclusions to himself.

“What are you waiting for?” Draco flopped onto the mattress, beckoning Harry to come closer. Harry crawled onto the bed and lay down beside him, wiggling a bit until he got all of the condoms out from under himself.

“I hope you didn’t plan to put them all to use tonight,” he quipped, counting them. “Eight times is a bit much, don’t you think?” 

“Oh, I’m nothing if not ambitious,” Draco grinned. “No, don’t worry. I just reached inside the drawer and grabbed a few.”

“Now that’s a relief…” Harry scooted closer to him and carded his fingers through the blond hair. “I’m sorry we had to wait so long for this second time.”

Draco nodded. “Me, too. But look at it this way: the built-up tension should help us reach some marvellous orgasms,” he said, eyes sparkling. The way he was talking, Harry swore he wasn’t the only one who had wanked himself raw during their little timeout. 

Of course, they had seen each other after their reconciliation, and having someone else bring you to climax was way better than doing it yourself, but it hadn’t been what Harry really wanted.

“You look sleepy,” Harry remarked after a while. Draco’s eyes were drooping and he had snuggled into Harry’s arms. 

“Hmm…”

Sleepy Draco was cute as hell, but unfortunately, that wasn’t what Harry had been looking forward to all day. 

Draco’s eyes met his. “Give me a moment or two and I’ll be up for anything you want.”

Harry shook his head. “That’s okay. My dick may hate you, but I like you too much to force you into action right now. Sleep now, sex later. Sound like a deal?”

“Perfect,” Draco purred and, reaching for Harry’s arm, he draped it over himself like a blanket.

\--

Harry must have dosed off eventually. He had watched Draco fall asleep and found the energy to wrestle them under the blanket, but then his memory faded.

It was almost completely dark in the room when he awoke. One lone torch was providing a little light, just enough to make out silhouettes in the semidarkness. Harry reached for his face, feeling his glasses that were still perched on his nose. He was comfortably warm, the blanket still spread over him. 

The only thing that was missing was Draco, who was no longer lying in his arms. Before he started to worry, though, he noticed that he wasn’t the only one covered by the blanket. Another body was there, wiggling around and trying to find a suitable position. Unlike Harry, Draco was wide awake and moving.

Harry was about to lift one corner and check what the other boy was trying to achieve, when his trousers were pulled down, quickly followed by his underwear. Draco must have got rid of the shoes before he awoke.

His legs were arranged to Draco’s liking and when his shin brushed against Draco’s stomach, he realized that Draco was at least one step ahead of him in matters of undress. Intrigued and completely awake now, Harry lay back and waited.

Draco was settling down between his legs and before Harry’s brain caught up with the implications of what might happen next, his cock was encased in a warm mouth.

“Oh!”

The answering chuckle around him, and the vibrations it caused, made him squirm. Harry made a mental note to wake Draco like that sometime in the future. He would certainly love it. And he was going to make sure that he remembered all the little tricks Draco used to make him shiver with pleasure.

Like now, when he held the base of his cock in hand and circled the head with his tongue, making Harry believe that he was going to get more any moment, only to pull back at the last second. Harry wanted to grab his head and hold him in place but before he could put that thought into action, Draco showed mercy and stopped his teasing.

His cock finally where it belonged (and Gods, did that thought make him blush), Harry gladly obeyed when Draco nudged him to bend his legs, his feet firmly placed on the mattress. Draco must have planned his ambush thoroughly for he had everything he needed already at hand. A slick finger circled Harry’s hole, soon breaching him and pushing inside up to its first knuckle.

Harry panted. That had been quite unexpected, but it didn’t take him long to adapt to the intrusion. When the pain had subsided, Harry pushed himself onto Draco’s finger. Immediately, he was rewarded with firmer suction around his cock, making him moan loudly.

The motion of the blanket over his naked legs led Harry to wonder what Draco was doing under it. Oh course, his head was bobbing up and down, but that didn’t explain the magnitude of the move it made. 

The suction stilled and those wonderful lips were replaced by a hand. “Stop thinking,” Draco’s voice demanded before his lips resumed their earlier task.

The missing light was starting to get to Harry. He had no idea what would happen next, he couldn’t see enough to watch Draco, even if he were to lift that blanket. The lack of anything to occupy his hands with also felt torturous. He wanted to hold Draco, caress him – any part of him, he wasn’t picky, or kiss him.

“Draco?”

“Hmm?” Again, there were those devilish vibrations, definitely something to remember.

“Come up here,” he begged.

Draco patted his leg to let him know he had heard his plea and continued sucking him off. The finger got company, first one, then two, and Harry was reduced to thrashing helplessly and panting. He didn’t have the energy left to demand anything.

Eventually, the fingers disappeared and Harry whined in protest.

“Greedy, aren’t we?” Draco teased with his head peaking out from under the blanket. The rest of him followed suit and Harry sighed happily when he was finally able to wrap himself around the wiry body resting on top of him.

Twining his legs around Draco’s narrow hips, Harry grabbed his face with both hands and pulled him into a heated kiss. His tongue was inside Draco’s mouth in an instant, happy to meet its counterpart and play. 

When they needed to pause for some air, Harry reminded Draco of his clothes.

“Don’t worry about them; they’re not in the way.”

“Hmm. But…”

“I think you’re hot this way, partly undressed and all sweaty,” Draco said, his hand travelling up Harry’s side and pinching a nipple. “Stay like that.”

How could he refuse?

“Pull your legs up and hold them under your knees,” Draco instructed, retreating slightly. When Harry obeyed, Draco quickly shoved a pillow under his hips, elevating his lower body.

Suddenly, Harry was grateful for the lack of illumination. He didn’t feel so exposed and stupid, holding this position, like he undoubtedly would otherwise.

He heard the rustling of the wrapper as Draco extracted one of the condoms. His movements were barely distinguishable, but soon he was hovering above Harry, propped up on one arm. His dick was poised in front of Harry’s entrance, unseen, but there, because he could already feel it nudge against the tight ring of muscle.

“Relax, breathe and bear down. Everything’s going to be just fine,” Draco said quietly.

Harry gasped as his muscles stretched to allow him in. But before he could start debating with himself whether it was painful or not, Draco was all the way in and, using both arms now, lowered himself onto Harry. 

“Let go of your legs. Wrap them around me, if you want, or brace your feet on the bed. Whatever works best,” Draco suggested. Then he closed the rest of the distance between their faces and kissed him gently.

Letting go of his knees, Harry tried to rest his legs on the bed, but it didn’t feel right. The angle of Draco’s dick thrusting into him was sort of wrong, his thrusts too shallow. Laying them over Draco’s thighs, though, was good. His pelvis was raised without Harry having to bend into an uncomfortable position.

Making use of his now freed arms, he reached for Draco’s arse, pulling him deeper into himself. Draco groaned in appreciation and doubled his efforts.

The kisses grew desperate and before long they were only panting into each other’s mouths, struggling to get enough oxygen. Draco latched onto Harry’s neck, nibbling and sucking at a sensitive patch of skin under his right ear. Harry whimpered. 

Clutching Draco close to him, Harry tilted his hips, helping his neglected cock to a little more friction as it was brushing against Draco’s stomach with each thrust. His muscles clenched on their own accord, somehow he must have got the angle just right and after a few brushes of Draco’s cock over his prostate, he felt the familiar tightening in his balls.

“Close,” he panted.

“Closer,” Draco hissed before he tensed and stilled, crying out. He shuddered and resumed his motion, though at a slower pace, aiming at Harry’s prostate. His hand had just circled Harry’s cock when he reached his climax, spurting come between them.

“Whew…” Harry dropped his legs, feeling Draco pull out. His heart was still beating fast and he felt completely drained. 

“Hmm.” Draco wasn’t paying attention. He was pulling the condom off his cock, watching it with interest. Then his gaze went between Harry’s legs. “You know, the positive aspect is that it reduces the mess after sex.” He reached for his wand and banished it. “It must lead to embarrassing situations between kids and their parents when they find it in the bin,” he mused.

“I’m sure people wrap it in something before they chuck it away,” Harry said, shrugging. “Did it feel the same for you?”

“Quite,” Draco replied, pensive. “I think the feeling was a little less intense, but that’s okay. It helps prolonging the fun.”

“So you can live with that solution?”

“Absolutely. Did I look to you like I wasn’t having fun?” Draco asked indignantly. 

Harry shook his head. He was happy that Draco wasn’t complaining about having to use the condoms, because he didn’t feel like foregoing that experience for anything.

“Do you want to see Pomfrey for another pregnancy scan?”

“No, it’s okay. What do you think could happen? We used protection, we’ll be fine,” Harry decided and snuggled into Draco’s warm embrace.

\--

The rest of the school year flew by in record time and sooner than expected, the finals were upon them. Harry’s body was reacting badly to the stress of studying and more studying, trying to set aside a few minutes each day for Draco and doing his best to not neglect his friends. He felt sick to his stomach for days on end and didn’t have much of an appetite. 

During that time, he was grateful for the study plans Hermione had set up for all of them individually, so he didn’t have to try finding a way to divide his time. He just had to abide by her rules and he wouldn’t forget to review anything important.

Even their sex life suffered under the duress. While Harry was constantly aroused, his body wasn’t always up to the challenge. He experienced more or less intense bouts of pain during one night. They had intercourse twice that night, and the next morning, he even found some blood in his underwear. Harry almost fainted. He didn’t know if he should go to the infirmary but cringed in embarrassment. Just thinking he’d have to tell someone about it made him shudder. 

In the end, he decided to wait and see, and to his relief, two days later the bleeding was gone. The next time they were about to have sex, he asked Draco to be extra cautious but didn’t elaborate when he asked. Nothing like that happened again and, eventually, Harry forgot about the incident.

The night of the Leaving Feast, Harry was caught between happiness and sadness. Hogwarts had been his first real home, and, while he was looking forward to returning to his house, he would miss the castle and its inhabitants immensely. Another cause of concern was his future with Draco. He would have loved to take the blond home, but the Malfoys insisted that their son was to return to Malfoy Manor, at least until his career plans had been sorted to their satisfaction.

Harry’s plans were vague. He had signed up for Auror training, but that was mostly because he had no idea what else he wanted to do. His in-laws (or whatever they were to him) felt obliged to inform him it would be better if he waited until Draco decided what he wanted to do with his life and then back him up. Since he didn’t need to work to earn money, he shouldn’t waste his time with useless, degrading jobs. Sooner or later, he would end up at home with their children; why bother with a job now and put himself in harm’s way.

Currently, the elder Malfoys and Harry weren’t on speaking terms and Draco thought it all ridiculously funny. He believed that Harry should do whatever he liked best, but was a bit reluctant to inform his parents of his opinion. Therefore, he was even more impressed with Harry’s demonstration of self-confidence.

He told him repeatedly that his father’s view of the world had already changed drastically because of that. He commanded obedience and having someone stand up to him like that was a whole new experience to him, which, according to Draco, did him a world of good.

Someone dropped onto the bench beside him, plate and goblet in hand, and jostled Harry’s elbow, making him lose the grip on his fork. Peas and meat made a nice summersault and landed in and around Parvati’s goblet, which in turn drenched her in pumpkin juice.

“Eeeek!” the girl shrieked, dismayed. 

“Ooops.” Harry flinched and Neville, feeling responsible, immediately apologized profusely. Hermione, who was situated on Harry’s other side, whipped her wand out and cast a few Scouring Charms.

Parvati checked her front and ran a hand through her hair and over her face, before she nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Hermione. I think nothing’s sticky anymore.”

“You’re welcome,” Hermione smiled, turning back to her conversation with Ron and Ginny.

“Again, I’m so sorry,” Neville said, still looking stricken. Since he was unable to correct minor mistakes like this immediately, he felt sorrier than ever before about one of his mishaps.

Parvati waved him off. “It’s okay. No harm done. – Harry, you can stop looking guilty! I’m not mad.” She handed him his fork, minus the food. “I don’t believe you want the rest back?”

“No, thanks,” Harry grinned.

“Goody.” She popped one lone pea that had made it on her plate in her mouth and nudged Lavender, asking her what she had missed in the meantime.

“Whoops,” Harry commented and filled himself another plate. He wasn’t hungry, but figured it couldn’t hurt to try at least a little longer.

“Yes. I’m still the same clumsy idiot that I was when I first came here all those years ago,” Neville said, wincing.

“Oh Nev, stop talking that way – please! You’re no idiot and you’re no clumsier than the rest of us. That could have happened to anyone.”

“Hmm.” Neville wasn’t convinced but since he wasn’t in the mood for a fight, he let it go. He changed the topic. “So you’re going to be an Auror? Are you looking forward to the training?”

Harry shrugged. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. I mean, I’m happy that I found something to do. Staying home 24/7 with only Winky for company sounds rather daunting and so I figured, the training would present me with a reason to regularly get out of the house.”

“What about Draco? Please tell me he didn’t sign up for Auror training as well?”

“No. That’s certainly not something he’d like to do. And even if it was, it would be too dangerous. Assume he hurt someone while on the job? That would be a big scandal and no one, least of all him, needs that. Though of course, he would be better qualified for the job than lots of the actual applicants,” Harry said, pride colouring his voice. He was happy for Draco who had managed to get the results for which he had been working. 

Only Hermione and the Head Boy, Goldstein, had been in the same league. 

“No doubt,” Neville said, keeping any grudge he might feel successfully to himself. “Are you satisfied with your results?”

“Well, I could have done better but considering the effort I made – not, I think it’s all right. I won’t lay awake at night and cry,” Harry added in a dry tone. He was a realist where his marks were concerned. He had studied a lot for the finals, but, he should have started sooner and, most certainly, should have been more focused on his work.

Well, that was all in the past now, and he was now allowed to call himself a fully qualified wizard. To him, that was what was most important.

“How about you, Neville?” Harry hadn’t seen much of his almost former roommate lately, since they had both spent a lot of time with their partners.

“The written exams went fine. Sadly, I had to forego most of the practical examinations. I tried by telling the examiner what I would do step by step, but of course that’s not the same as doing it yourself. They gave me credit for trying and only counted half of the points. So, all in all, I didn’t do badly.”

“And now, what’s it going to be, the bar or the shop?”

Neville smiled. He beamed with pride when he replied, “The shop. Hannah and I talked it through and have come to the decision that we’re both going to be happier with that solution. Of course, with the shop I need more help since I don’t possess magic any longer. In the medium term, that means that we won’t have children during the next five years or so since she’s going to work fulltime. Afterwards, we’re confident that we’re going to find a way.”

“That’s wonderful, Neville,” Harry said, relieved that everything worked out so well for his friend. “Uh, can I ask…?”

“What?”

“About your magic…?”

Neville flinched. “I suppose... – Well, I’ve been to see Pomfrey last week, and she said that my body’s trying to restore it. My levels are still low, lower, lowest, but there’s something there. She wasn’t able to give me numbers, but it doesn’t look hopeless.”

“Thank Merlin!” Harry exclaimed, drawing everyone’s attention to him. He blushed and ducked his head, resuming eating his, now rather cold, meal.

“Thank you,” Neville said, clearly amused. “Honestly. And I wanted to thank you for being there for me after that incident.”

“But I didn’t do anything,” Harry protested.

“You did enough. Accept it!”

“Okay… – So, when will we get the invitations to your wedding?”

Neville snorted, almost choking on his morsel. “Uh…” he said dumbly.

“Well, you’ve been talking of babies and a jointly owned shop…?”

“It _is_ the next logical step, yes, but we discussed this and decided to wait until we’ve earned enough money to pay for it ourselves. It’s quite important to me because it’s a way to prove to Gran that I’m no loser.”

Harry was shocked by his honesty, but managed to nod despite himself. “Good plan,” he croaked out eventually. How could they have missed this? It just wasn’t right. Neville was no loser and he shouldn’t have to prove it still…not so much to others, but mostly to himself. That was just unbelievingly sad, Harry thought, and he hoped that, one day, Neville would finally realize what a great guy he was.

\--

A week after the end of school, Harry visited The Burrow. That in itself wasn’t something worth mentioning, but, this time, he wasn’t alone. After lots of pouting and many discussions (fights), he had managed to drag Draco along.

Now that they stood in front of the door and waited for someone to get it, Draco made a Herculean effort not to sneer or give away his disgust in any other way. Harry had told him beforehand what was expected of him and also added what sort of repercussions he’d have to face in case he stepped out of line.

The door was flung open and revealed Mrs. Weasley, a wide grin on her face.

“Harry! Mr Malfoy. Please come in!”

She pulled Harry into a bone-crushing embrace and shook hands with Draco, who looked more uncomfortable by the moment, before she ushered them inside. Ron and Hermione were waiting for them in the sitting room. Ginny was suspiciously absent.

“My husband will be home soon. He just had to dash out for a moment to run some errands,” she explained. “Please take a seat.”

Harry sat down on the sofa and pulled Draco down beside him, hoping he wouldn’t make a fuss. If he pulled out a handkerchief and dusted his seat, he would kill him. But, thankfully, Draco wasn’t his mother. Harry could only imagine what she would have to say about their current surroundings. She wouldn’t be able to see all the tiny things that made The Burrow the cosy home that it was. She would focus only on the threadbare furniture and the lack of pricy items scattered all over the place. Harry, though, preferred The Burrow over the cold atmosphere of Malfoy Manor any time.

Ron and Hermione sat down opposite them and Ron smirked. “So, Draco, did you get permission to leave to mark the occasion?”

“Excuse me?”

“Harry told us that you’ve rarely been outside the Manor since we left Hogwarts,” Hermione explained, elbowing Ron in the ribs.

“Oh. Well, my parents wanted me to sort out everything regarding my apprenticeship. Now that everything’s settled, I can have a few weeks of reprieve until it starts. Afterwards, I don’t think I’ll see daylight for weeks.”

“What are you planning to do?” Hermione asked. She was going to start at university in autumn and begin her law studies. It was a Muggle university, but she planned to combine her knowledge, eventually, and help both Muggles and wizards.

“Working my arse off for a master in Potions...”

“Wow, that’s great. How did you find a master willing to take you on? I heard it was next to impossible,” she said. “You’re not planning to leave England, right?”

“Of course not,” Draco replied haughtily. “The apprenticeship was offered to me.”

“Oh?” Her eyebrows shut upwards. 

“Hmm,” was everything Draco said and Harry decided to respect his wishes. If he didn’t want to talk about it, he would accept it. Even if Hermione looked fit to burst out of curiosity.

Hermione frowned but didn’t press him for details. She offered to help Mrs Weasley with the refreshments and left the room hurriedly. 

“Was that necessary?” Ron asked, annoyed. “You know what she’s like. Tell her something about your future plans, and she’s bound to ask for details. If you’re not willing to provide them, don’t start that topic. It’s quite unfair to her.”

Draco stared at him. “Uh, she was asking _me_ …”

“Boys, don’t fight,” Mrs Weasley said, directing a few glasses and a plate of cookies with her wand. Hermione followed with a jar filled with pumpkin juice and placed in on the table between them.

Ron grimaced. “Mum… We’re all adults here and we’re celebrating the end of our schooldays. Don’t you think we deserve to drink something else? Something a little less childish?”

“What are you proposing, Ronald Weasley? Did you really think I would serve you lot Firewhiskey at four in the afternoon?” Mrs Weasley asked her son incredulously. She distributed the glasses and encouraged her guests to taste the cookies.

“Well, no, but pumpkin juice?”

“It’s fine, Molly, thank you so much,” Hermione interjected, scowling at Ron.

“If you’d rather…”

“No, Mrs Weasley, thank you. We do like drinking juice,” Harry said, emphasising the ‘do’. 

She didn’t look convinced, but when Draco took at sip of his drink and gave her one of his real smiles, she seemed to relax and took a seat herself.

“Wonderful. And maybe not every one of you should be drinking…? Harry, dear, how are you? We’ve heard about your little scare in spring, but now it looks like the situation isn’t so serious like everybody feared it was, is it?”

Harry blinked.

“The threats of an unplanned pregnancy,” Mrs Weasley elaborated and Harry choked on his juice, barely managing to swallow it and not spitting it over Ron and Hermione. “Oh. I’m sorry. Was that the wrong thing to say? You’re not pregnant now, are you?”

“Uh, no?” Harry was shocked that she knew about that, and more than a little taken aback that she addressed it when they had come to spend a few happy hours with his friends.

Draco put a hand on his arm, instantly slipping in his protective mode. “Mrs Weasley, I don’t know who saw fit to inform you of the situation, but let me reassure you that we have it well in hand.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. And, when we came here today, we didn’t expect a conversation about the intimate parts of our relationship.”

“Oh.”

“Please, let us know if that was a misconception and we’ll make an effort to come up with some questions of our own,” Draco finished sweetly. By now, everyone was blushing furiously, him remaining the only one who seemed totally at ease. Harry knew that he must be seething inside, but he had handled the situation remarkably well. The elder Malfoys would be so proud.

“I’m going to leave you young folk alone so you can catch up,” Mrs Weasley said. She got up and stiffly walked away.

The moment she was out of their sight, Ron roared with laughter. Harry and Hermione watched him amusedly, while a small grin formed on Draco’s face.

“Wonderful, just wonderful!” Ron said when he had calmed enough to talk. “It’s rare that Mum’s at a loss for words and, that she’s actually admitting defeat, is unheard of. This is just precious. I can’t wait to tell the others about it.”

“Ron,” Hermione rebuked him, with a smile tugging at her lips. 

“Congratulations.” Ron offered his hand to Draco. “You did something that no one else has done before you…at least not in my presence. Thank you.”

Draco accepted and they shook hands, both of them grinning like loons. Harry wondered how that was possible. Draco and Ron were bonding over the joy of having a parent put in their place by a peer. Who would have thought?

“Harry?” Hermione asked, tentatively. “I know it’s none of my business, but, well, we did worry that you would have to finish school with a bump…”

Somehow, there was a difference when one of his best friends was the one voicing the concern, and so Harry said, “Yes, we feel kind of lucky ourselves. The way Snape was talking, one would have thought I _had_ to become pregnant instantly. But, now it looks like he was wrong. This is weird, really, because I believed him when he said we should be careful. But considering the fact that we don’t even know where he got his information, he could equally well have got it wrong.”

“I don’t think so,” Draco interjected. “Snape wouldn’t say something if he wasn’t totally sure. He wouldn’t have bothered to say anything to us if there was no danger.”

“But Snape has been wrong about a great many things,” Ron said. “He was wrong about Harry from the start, he was wrong about Sirius – sorry, Harry, I know you don’t like hearing his name. He can err as much as the next person.”

Draco shook his head. “I agree that he’s made mistakes where the characters of certain people were concerned. And he’s been unfair as hell to Harry. Well, I’ve been, too. Yet, I stick with what I said. He must have been damn sure to confront us the way he did. People are one thing, facts are another. And Snape always has his facts straight.” He looked at Harry for confirmation. 

“I don’t know. I really don’t. On the one hand, nothing has happened so far. But on the other hand, I agree with Draco: Snape was dead serious that day. And he didn’t enjoy himself, having to talk about sex with us. He certainly wasn’t doing it for the laughs.”

“But, if he is indeed right, then why are you not pregnant? I didn’t find anything to help you, and I tried my very best,” Hermione said, frowning. “Did someone else come up with a suitable solution?”

“Harry did. He suggested using condoms,” Draco replied calmly. 

Hermione sputtered and Ron asked, “What are condoms?”

“I think, that honour goes to you,” Draco smirked.

Harry watched his friend thinking furiously, trying to come up with a suitable explanation, one that she could give in front of two grinning lunatics.

“Uh… Condoms are a Muggle contraception means. They’re made of rubber and you put them over your – Draco, I want you to know that I hate you – penis, so they prevent the sperm from reaching its destination. It also prevents some diseases from being transmitted during intercourse.”

“You put them over your dick? How? Don’t they interfere during sex?” Ron, like his father, had a fascination with Muggle contraptions. He wasn’t that extreme, but he always enjoyed hearing about new things. And, unlike his girlfriend, he didn’t have that much of an issue when it came to talking about sex…if it wasn’t too detailed and didn’t involve two males.

“No, they don’t. I never tried it, but I guess Harry and Draco would gladly tell you more about that,” Hermione said. Then she sat back in her seat and crossed her arms.

“Uh, well, no…”

“I don’t have a problem with that,” Draco started.

“No, it’s okay, really. I can just look it up somewhere,” Ron assured, looking a bit panicky.

“Hermione won,” Harry declared, having watched the entire exchange. “Sorry, Ron.”

Rolling his eyes at himself, he chuckled good-naturedly. “Shall I see where Mum has hidden the Butterbeer? Now that we have established that everyone’s allowed to drink?”

“Won’t they be mad?” Hermione asked. “You’re father’s about to come home any moment now, too.”

“It’s not Firewhiskey and no one’s going to get drunk,” Ron defended his suggestion.

Harry and Draco looked at each other. While Harry would prefer the Butterbeer to the juice, he didn’t want Ron to get into trouble with his parents. Draco most likely thought the same way, and while his concern for Ron might be less pronounced, he wouldn’t encourage him to go against his mother’s wishes – not in her own house.

“We could go out,” Harry suggested. “A quick trip to Diagon Alley, for example. Or we could Floo to The Three Broomsticks. Celebrating our newfound freedom there would be a nice gesture, don’t you think?”

“I’m in.” Hermione rose. “I’ll let Molly know that we’re going to be back in time for dinner. Arthur would be crestfallen if you had been here and he missed you.”

“Perfect,” Harry agreed.

Soon, they were seated at a table, Butterbeer in front of them and recapturing the last days of school and their plans for the upcoming months.

“Harry, you’re still planning to start training with me, right?” Ron asked. He was more than a little excited at the prospect of finally doing something real, not just biding his time at school.

“Yes, I think so. Since nothing better has come up…” Harry trailed off. In his opinion, becoming an Auror was not the best thing that could ever happen to him. Fighting had never been his forte, he had done it because everyone expected him to save the world and he wouldn’t have been able to leave them to themselves in good conscience. Not when he knew that it was him Voldemort was after.

“You could always make my parents happy and be a good little housewife, eh, househusband. Merlin, that sounds tacky, doesn’t it?” Draco chuckled. He and Harry had discussed this and agreed that Harry should do what he wanted with his life, as long as he would never walk out on Draco and still agreed to bear his children one day.

“Ha ha. I bet they’re frustrated that we’re not pregnant right now, aren’t they?”

“I think father’s relieved that we have a little more time to ourselves, before we have to look after another human being. Mother would have loved to meet her first grandchild at the end of the year, but, of course, she’s happy that I can start my apprenticeship now.”

“Why should Harry being pregnant keep you from training?” Hermione asked, curious. “I’m sure your family would be able to back him up financially…although, on closer inspection, it’s rather obvious that he doesn’t need it. So I repeat: why?”

“Because then we would want to live together, obviously. During my apprenticeship, that’s going to be hard to realize. Maybe one or two years in, but in the beginning there’s no way.”

“So you are going away?” Hermione didn’t give up that easily. “Ron and Harry will be in London and from what you tell us, I deduce that that is not where you’ll be staying. Are you going to live at home?”

Draco scowled. “Curious, are we?” He sighed. “No, I’m not going to stay with my parents. Maybe for the one or other weekend, but most of the time I will reside elsewhere. London would be possible, there’s always the Floo Network, but lots of potions need attention around the clock and don’t care if their brewer wants to head home for the night. I figured, it would be easier to live where I learn.”

“I still didn’t get the name of your master…?”

“Very subtle… That’s because I didn’t mention it.”

“Why not?” Even Ron was curious now. Harry could tell from the way his eyes lit up and he was leaning forward in his seat.

“Because he wouldn’t want it known,” Draco said curtly.

“Ah, now I see.” Hermione grinned. “Give our regards to Professor Snape when you get there, will you.” Draco was so perplex at her perception that he could only nod. 

“How is Winky doing at Grimmauld Place?” Ron asked eventually. He glanced at Draco and snickered. “You should know by now that no secret is safe from her.”

Draco sniffed indignantly and buried his nose in his glass.

“Last I checked with her, she told me that our rooms are ready for us to move in any time. She’s currently working on the sitting room, but expects no problems,” Harry told him. Last summer, he had sworn never to set a foot inside that house, but things had changed. He felt overall calmer now than he had been shortly after the war, and was able to look at things much more rationally.

“I’m really looking forward to it,” Ron said, raising his glass. “To our future.”

Everyone raised their glasses and took a drink. 

\--

Even a year later, Harry looked back fondly at that afternoon with his friends. Occasions like this had been few and far between since then. Hermione was struggling to stay on top of her ridiculous workload; Ron didn’t fare much better, though he had considerably less to study for. 

Draco had been right in his predictions. Snape was bombarding him with work, but Draco rarely complained. Usually, he managed to come and see Harry once a month for a weekend, leaving another one free to see his parents. The rest of his time, he was holed up in the dungeons. They had even gone so far and made up a cot for him in Snape’s laboratory so he could tend to the more volatile concoctions in the middle of the night if need be.

While he was also busy, Harry found himself bored half of the time. Yes, training was taxing, but he wasn’t in it with all his heart. He had to focus on the tasks he was given, and he was mostly successful in completing them, but he couldn’t help thinking that that was not what he was meant to do. Still, he told himself that he needed to learn anything, gritted his teeth and went back every bloody day.

Tonight, he would be having dinner with Draco, but Harry had conflicting thoughts about the night ahead. Because, spending time with his boyfriend came at a high price: he would also have to endure the elder Malfoys’ presence for hours before they would be allowed to leave.

Tugging on the sleeves of his robes nervously, Harry waited in front of his fireplace until it was time to go. He didn’t want to be late and seem impolite and he didn’t want to be too early in case it would appear intrusive. He had to get this right.

When it was one minute to eight, he threw the powder into the flames, stepped in and called out his destination. He was whisked away and exited the hearth at Malfoy Manor exactly on time, waiting for one of his hosts to acknowledge his presence. It had taken almost a year until Malfoy senior had stopped sending a house-elf to retrieve Harry, and Harry understood that it was a great honour, meaning he wasn’t regarded as some random, not really welcome acquaintance any longer.

Harry was still debating with himself whether he should take a seat while he waited or if that could be regarded as being discourteous, when the door opened and revealed someone he had least expected to see.

“Good evening, Professor,” he greeted his former teacher, struggling to keep the disappointment off his face. Yes, he had resigned himself to an evening with his in-laws, and considering who he was and who they were, that was daunting enough. Did his most hated teacher absolutely have to make an appearance that night? And what was he doing here, anyways? He had been on the opposite side of the war from the Malfoys, hadn’t he? Why would he still be sucking up to them, now that everything was over?

Snape inclined his head and gestured for him to lead the way. “Our hosts are waiting for us in the parlour.”

Harry suppressed a sigh. He hadn’t seen Draco in two weeks, except some brief conversations through the Floo, and now there wouldn’t even be an opportunity to say hello. Surely, it couldn’t get any worse.

He stopped in front of the huge door he knew was leading into the parlour. Snape would want to enter in front of him, and so he waited for the other wizard to catch up. Snape acknowledged this with a curt nod as he passed him, though he didn’t bother to thank Harry or address him in any other way.

“Mr Potter, welcome,” she-Malfoy said, rising from her seat. She shook Harry’s hand with the usual lack of warmth and stepped aside for her husband to greet him.

Malfoy looked him over before he also took his hand, shaking it. “Mr Potter.”

“Uh, hello, Mr and Mrs Malfoy. Thank you for inviting me to dinner,” Harry said, glad that he got through that sentence without a stutter.

Draco appeared by his side, pulling him into a fleeting embrace. “Hello, Harry.”

“Draco, hey…” Harry didn’t want to let go of him. It pained him physically to let him go after a moment. That just wasn’t right. He understood that his apprenticeship was very important to Draco, but having to share him with his parents on one of the rare occasions he was outside of the dungeons, seemed rather cruel.

“We had a drink already; the Professor and I were early. Would you like anything or do you want to eat?” Draco asked quietly while the adults allowed them a few moments for themselves.

Harry’s heart stopped for a moment. Was he late? Had he got the time wrong?

“You’re on time, don’t worry,” Draco reassured him instantly, having noticed his confusion. “We were done with that one potion, and he suggested leaving before we sat and got too lethargic to stand. You know what it’s like. Once you allow yourself to relax, it’s hard to drag yourself off the sofa afterwards.”

“Hmm. We can go eat. I’m sorry I made everybody wait,” Harry whispered back. Gods, how embarrassing! They could have let him know and he would have been there much sooner. To think that he’d been waiting in front of the fire for ten minutes… But maybe it had been deliberate and they actually preferred not having to deal with him for one glorious hour. Civilised conversation didn’t include Harry Potter. The more he thought about it, the worse he felt.

Draco opened his mouth to say something in return, but just that moment his father’s eyes caught his and Draco nodded, wordlessly communicating Harry’s decision.

So, they went into the dining room and gathered around the large table. Harry kept his head down throughout the meal, praying that no one addressed him. Most of the time, they respected his wish and so he was at least able to cherish the food in peace. Malfoy house-elves were wonderful cooks.

Afterwards, they retired to another room. Harry would title it a sitting room, but then he had been to three of those already during his short stays at the Manor and, so far, it had been impossible to make out any differences.

Draco had excused himself for a moment, and Snape and Malfoy were talking by the fire, sipping what was most certainly ridiculously expensive cognac. Harry bet it tasted awful. He was swirling his wine glass, watching the liquid slosh around, threatening to spill every other round.

“Mr Potter.”

Harry looked up, startled, and promptly some of the dark red wine sloped on his grey shirt. Wonderful. Grabbing the front of his robe and pulling it in front of the stain in lighting speed, Harry hoped that the she-Malfoy hadn’t noticed his mishap.

“Mrs Malfoy, thank you again for having me,” Harry smiled, securing his lips in that position.

“You’re welcome, Mr Potter.” She sat down beside him, rearranging her robes around her when she was seated. “Mr Potter, how are you faring with your training?”

“It’s going well, Mrs Malfoy.”

“Indeed. How much longer will it take for you to finish it and start working in your… profession?”

“About two more years, Mrs Malfoy,” Harry supplied obediently. Why was she asking him those questions? Surely, she couldn’t care less about his future career. Or maybe she was counting the days until he was a fully trained Auror and could, accidentally, become a victim on the field. He wouldn’t put it past her. Rarely had someone looked at him with such a cold and calculating gaze. Coming from him, that was saying something.

“Two more years,” she said pensively, tapping her lips with one manicured forefinger. “That’s quite a long time, don’t you think, Mr Potter? Even Draco will have completed his studies before then.”

What was she saying? That he should hurry the fuck up? Auror training always took three years; she could have looked it up if she was really interested in the information.

“Probably, ma’am.” If that conversation continued for much longer, he’d choke on his answers. It was really starting to grate on his nerves.

“We, my husband and I, are a bit concerned about your health. Wouldn’t this _job_ of yours be derogatory for an eventual pregnancy?”

Ah, that was what she was really interested in. He should have known, Harry rebuked himself. 

“I have a lot of female colleagues who were able to combine their work and the start of a family. I’m sure that, when the time comes, Draco and I will find a satisfactory solution, Mrs Malfoy.”

“Of course you will, Mr Potter,” the she-Malfoy hastened to reassure him. “I was just wondering when that moment might be? It’s been a year since you left Hogwarts, and we assumed we’d be blessed with a grandchild by now, maybe with another one on the way.”

“Um…” Harry was struck speechless He didn’t know what to say to this woman who must have a strong dislike against him, considering their history. And yet she wanted him to be the second father of her grandchildren. Plural! The woman was insane.

“I’m also wondering how you prevented becoming pregnant for so long. Draco refused to give me details, just informing me that he had everything in hand…”

Harry blinked. He couldn’t believe the nerve of that woman. Gods, what was he supposed to say? He just wanted to get out of this room and out of this house and far, far away from that person. How dare she ask him such intimate questions?

“Narcissa,” Malfoy interrupted smoothly, “Severus would like to take a look at these plants now. He’ll want to head back to Hogwarts soon.”

Back to Hogwarts? Would he take Draco with him? Harry wanted to cry. The whole evening had been torture and he hadn’t seen Draco for what felt like an eternity now. Had he drowned himself in the toilet? Why else would he leave him alone with his parents and Snape?

“Of course. Excuse me.” The she-Malfoy got up instantly and hurried towards the door where Snape was already waiting for her.

“What plants, sir?” Harry blurted out. He wasn’t interested in the least in those stupid plants, but he had to say something, hadn’t he?

Malfoy looked him over but didn’t seem to mind the question, as he replied calmly, “She thinks she found some rare flower in between her roses. I haven’t seen it before, but that doesn’t mean anything. I suggested taking a few books outside and compare it to the pictures, but then we learned that Severus would be here tonight and asking him was the easier solution.”

He still seemed to be on friendly terms with Snape, Harry thought. Or maybe it was just an act for Draco’s sake? His eyes wandered to Malfoy’s hands, clad in leather gloves and resting on the familiar cane. He was like Draco. Would he have some answers for him?

“I apologize for my wife,” Malfoy said eventually. 

“Oh.”

“Mr Potter. I didn’t need to overhear the exact wording, but I can imagine the tenor of your brief conversation. It probably resembled the ones she has had with Draco over the months.”

“Oh.”

“My wife is incapable of understanding that not everybody seeks to have children the moment they are out of school. This notion has intensified over the years, when she had to wait for the birth of her first…and only child. Please, forgive her for projecting her own feelings onto you,” Malfoy said, looking over Harry’s shoulder.

“Uh, well, yes. Of course. I’m sorry to hear that, sir,” Harry forced out. He licked his lips. It was now or never… “Sir, uh, well… I…” Harry stopped. Now of all times, his famous Gryffindor courage was failing him.

Malfoy sat down on the other end of the sofa and asked, “Yes?”

Was he really trying to encourage him to speak? Harry doubted that very much. But he felt a bit better now that the man wasn’t looming over him anymore.

“Did you wish to tell me something? Or did you have a question?” Malfoy’s eyes were trained on him, carefully watching him. “A question it is. Should I start making guesses then?”

“No! No, sir, I’m sorry. I think this is a bad idea.” And it was. What had he been thinking? Yes, he wanted to know more about the Furattacti. Yes, he was reasonably sure that Malfoy knew more about them than Draco did. If anything, he had been living as one for twenty something years. And Harry still wondered why, for him, the interaction with Draco was inconsequential. He was also dying to know why the condoms worked for them and why no one else had the same idea. There were enough Muggle-borns and half-bloods out there; at least a few of them must be familiar with these things. 

But he mustn’t forget that Malfoy wasn’t just his future father-in-law. He was also a cruel, sadistic person, and an immensely dangerous opponent. One just didn’t have a little chat with someone like him.

To Harry’s utmost surprise, Malfoy backed off immediately. He held up one hand to indicate that he had understood and sat back, tearing his steely eyes off Harry. None of them said anything else afterwards and, thankfully, the she-Malfoy and Snape were back soon after. Half an hour ago Harry would have been laughing his arse off, imagining he would ever think that way.

Malfoy got up. “Severus, a word.” With a jut of his chin, he directed the other man into a corner and started whispering with him, gesturing with his free hand and glancing toward Harry once or twice. What was he telling Snape?

“Harry,” a sorely missed voice came from behind him just as the she-Malfoy crept closer again.

Harry jumped to his feet and was around the couch within moments. “Where have you been?” The accusation was clearly audible in his tone. _How could you leave me with them?_

“I’m so sorry, Harry. I was heading back here from the bathroom, when one of the elves told me that my favourite horse had a foal last week. I just had to pop out and take a look at it. It’s so cute!” Draco gushed. “It’s almost completely white, except for a few inches above one hoof. It’s, well, he’s so adorable.”

“Hmm…”

“Aw, come on. Don’t pout. I’m a daddy now,” Draco grinned. Well, that had been the wrong thing to say.

“Do you think this is funny? Hmm? Your mother’s been interrogating me, demanding answers why I’m not pregnant with her second grandchild by now! I’m so glad to know that at least your horse does what it’s supposed to do!”

“Harry…” Draco stepped closer, wrapping his arms around him. “Look, I know that she can be a bit overbearing, okay? And I also know that people start to wonder why we haven’t started a family yet. Knowing what I am, they’re not entirely wrong about that. But that’s not important, is it? What is important is that we agreed to wait, no matter what everyone else might think. Ignore her! I’ve been practicing this for eighteen years now.”

“You’re nineteen,” Harry reminded him half-heartedly. 

“Well, I didn’t know better during my first year,” Draco remarked dryly, forcing a grin onto Harry’s face. “See? That’s better. I’m sorry if she spooked you. For Mother, it’s hard to believe that one might want to wait a little before having kids, you know.”

“That’s what your father said…”

“Really? Father? He went to talk to you?” 

“Yes, he did. Why?”

“Oh, nothing. I just hadn’t expected that. He’s been…unhappy with our relationship in the beginning and I had a hard time believing him lately, when he told me he was starting to come around. I was wondering if someone had been talking to him but dismissed that thought. After all, Mother’s still a bit lukewarm about us,” Draco said, frowning. “Not that she would ever say something directly, but I know from the way she talks to me that she’s not happy with my decisions.”

Harry nodded. “I thought so. She’s not openly unfriendly or impolite to me or anything, but she lets me know that she’s not one of my biggest fans.”

“Sorry…”

“Not your fault. You can’t help who your parents are, and you’re not responsible for their actions. Not before they’re old and batty, at least,” he added and was rewarded with a low chuckle.

“Still, I’m sorry. I should have asked you to come with me to the stables,” Draco said, still holding Harry close. Apparently, now it didn’t matter anymore to uphold the earlier distance for his parents’ sake.

“I’ll live. I’m just sad that you’re going to return to Hogwarts any moment now and I haven’t seen much of you tonight.”

“Who said I was going to go back to Hogwarts tonight?” Draco pulled back a bit, peering at Harry.

“Um… You’re not?”

“Nope. I’ve got to stay here, though. Mother’s been complaining that she wouldn’t recognize me on the street anymore, seeing that she rarely sees me nowadays. But,” he went on hurriedly when Harry opened his mouth to protest that he wasn’t faring much better, “you could spend the night. What do you say?”

Yes, what indeed. Staying with Draco sounded tempting, but was it worth the price he would have to pay?

“Um, I’ve got nothing with me. No change of clothes or anything.”

“Well, my room is warm enough and I could be persuaded to ask a house-elf to get you an additional blanket. Clothing isn’t required,” Draco said, leering. “If you’re worried about my parents…you won’t get to see them until lunch tomorrow. And we can come up with a suitable excuse for you until then and you go home after breakfast. What do you think?”

“But I’ve got no--”

“I’ll lend you something. – Look,” Draco said, getting impatient, “if you don’t want to stay, then say so. I will understand. Anything else can be worked around.”

“O-Okay.”

“Great! Let’s say goodnight to everybody now.” Draco started with his mother and was already pulling him toward the men still talking in the corner, before Harry had the chance to react.

\--


	6. Chapter 6

Harry had seen Draco’s room before, of course, but this would be his first night spent there. So far, Draco usually had come to Grimmauld Place and Harry had come to Hogwarts once or twice, but the latter had been long ago. Neither of them had been willing to tell Snape that they planned to sleep together in his lab. That would be too weird.

“Don’t you think Snape was pissed that you didn’t come back with him?” Harry asked from a window, staring out into the night.

“No, why should he? He knew I was planning to stay the night, and since I slept in the lab for weeks, I think I deserve a little break,” Draco said, stepping up to him and resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder, following his gaze. “He’s strict but not unreasonable, you know.”

“Hmm. How come he’s still friends with your parents? Shouldn’t they hate him for spying on them and helping the other side to win the war?”

“Shouldn’t the same go for me?”

“No. You’ve never been a Death Eater. You were a biased little shit, but you didn’t kill anyone or take pleasure in torturing people,” Harry explained. He felt lucky about that. He doubted he would have been able to forgive him for that. The things he had done were bad enough, but now he was honestly sorry and Harry believed him. “You are happy that Snape helped save the school, including your sexy arse.”

“And what makes you think that my parents don’t feel the same?”

“Because they never wanted Voldemort gone? Because they were hoping he’d win and they would get the chance to rule at his side?”

“Twenty years ago, certainly. During those last years, especially after his return, not so much.”

“Oh.”

“You know what I was willing to do to help my family. What makes you think that my father was any different? He hated bowing to the Dark Lord, but he would have done anything to keep Mother and me alive. I’m also sure that… Hmm.” Draco paused, rubbing his nose.

“What?”

“There are times when I think I don’t know him at all. Like, when I see him with Mother. I think he likes her well enough, but he doesn’t love her. I think, he stays with her out of duty or maybe convenience. And I wonder if there’s someone out there who he is in love with.”

Malfoy in love was a strange concept to Harry. Someone as cold-hearted and jaded as that man couldn’t have any tender feelings for another person, could he? But, of course, he would never be able to voice his doubts to Draco.

“So what about Snape?”

“He’s always been around. Since I can remember, he came by regularly to see Father. Sometimes, he stayed for a few days; mostly, he disappeared after a few hours. But he’s been here every week.”

“Even after the end of the war?” Harry wanted to know.

“Like I said, once a week since I can remember,” Draco repeated. “See the light?” He pointed toward a few flickering lights, probably torches, that lit a building almost hidden by a group of trees. “That’s the stable. They wanted to give me another room initially, with a much better view, but I wanted to be able to see the horses first thing in the morning. Okay, it’s just the stable, but I like it all the same.”

“I never took you for an animal lover,” Harry said, smirking a bit.

“Well, not all animals. But horses and a few selected others…” Draco trailed off. “I could take you there tomorrow morning, if you want. Show you the little one that took up most of my time tonight.” Pride was laced through his tone. “Even if you’re no big fan…”

“Okay,” Harry readily agreed, though mostly for Draco’s sake. 

“I’m tired. Do you want to go to bed?”

“You’re not tired, you want to fuck,” Harry stated. “But that’s quite convenient, because I happen to feel the same way.”

“Yippee!” Draco dragged Harry towards the bed, spelling the curtains closed as he went.

“The door?”

“Shut, locked, warded.”

“Perfect.” Harry shrugged off his robes and quickly shed the rest of his clothing. Draco followed his example and within moments, they were standing in front of each other, naked.

Draco growled deep in his throat and stalked towards Harry, walking him backwards until he literally ended up with his back against the wall. Well, the mirror in this case. Harry squeaked, the glass was damn cold against his skin, and sighed when Draco covered his front with his warm body. The difference in temperature was quite exciting. He tipped his head back and pulled Draco’s mouth on his.

Thankfully, or unfortunately, the glass was quickly warming up and Harry rested his full body weight against the mirror. That allowed him to wrap his legs around Draco’s hips without making him lose his balance, pushing their cocks together. Draco’s hands instantly went from Harry’s head to his arse, helping to hold him in place.

One arm wrapped around Draco’s neck, Harry used his free hand to pull Draco’s head back.

“Not the hair!” the other boy protested indignantly, but Harry hushed him with a quick kiss before he latched his mouth to his collarbone. 

Draco was being a bit difficult when it came to love bites. That was hard to believe when one assumed these things could be healed within seconds, but it wasn’t that easy. He did want to carry reminders of Harry on his body but only if no one but them could see them. As long as they were invisible, Harry was free to mark him everywhere he liked. And so, Harry learned to forego his neck, but focused on the skin hidden under Draco’s clothes instead. It was a fair compromise which both of them could live with.

“Hang on,” Draco told him, waiting for Harry to hold on tight before he removed one hand. Summoning his wand, he then said, “ _Accio_ lube, _Accio_ condom.” 

The condom was thrust between their bodies, still packed in its wrapper, and soon afterwards Harry heard the wand clatter to the floor, soon followed by the jar. 

“Ready?”

He nodded.

Draco was generous with the lubrication this time, spreading it liberally around Harry’s entrance, one or two fingers dipping inside now and again, but not further that the first knuckle. 

Beads of sweat started to form on his forehead and his back. The hold the glass had offered became slippery, making Harry cling tighter to Draco. Kissing wasn’t possible like this, but that was okay. Everything was all right and would be even better, if Draco would get on with it already.

There was no finger inside him, let alone two or three. Harry was getting slightly frustrated; he had been looking forward to the preparation, because that would let him know when the main course was to be expected and he could hardly wait.

Well, at least things went in the desired direction. The condom was placed where it belonged, needing a lot of fumbling and almost causing them to crash to the floor twice, but they managed. Eventually, Draco hefted Harry a little higher and then something blunt and much bigger than a finger was nudging his hole, carefully but insistently pressing its way inside.

Merlin, this was crazy, he hadn’t had sex in weeks, Harry wanted to say…but he didn’t. While it was a little painful, it was also thrilling.

“Okay?” Draco asked him, panting with exertion, before pushing past the inner ring of muscle.

“Okay,” Harry answered in kind. Gods, if Draco thought he would ever again let him dwell on preparation for hours, he’d be sorely disappointed.

Finally, he was embedded balls deep in Harry’s body and they stared at each other in wonder. 

“Still okay?”

“Getting there,” Harry said honestly. Draco would see if he was lying, so why bother? He took a few deep breaths. “Good. Move!” He buried his head in Draco’s neck and held on for dear life.

And Draco did. At first, it needed getting used to. Harry was used to the gravitation working for him when he was riding Draco, but this was something else. Now, his entire weight pressed him onto Draco’s cock, making it hard for the other boy to pull out, but after a few tries they had learned how to work together. Harry helped by pulling himself upwards as good as he could, allowing his body to crash down when Draco thrust upwards.

The burning had subsided considerably. It was still there, but it didn’t prevent Harry from having fun. If anything, it enhanced it. But that wasn’t something he was comfortable pondering.

The thrusts increased in speed and force, making Harry’s back rub against the mirror with each move. Draco’s fingers were sure to leave bruises, but he didn’t mind. He locked his feet behind Draco and decided that the best thing was that he didn’t need further stimulation on his cock. It was trapped between them, their stomachs providing it with all the friction it needed. 

With another sharp thrust, this time better aimed, Draco’s cock jabbed Harry’s prostate and he possibly yowled. Spurred on by this reaction, Draco did his best to repeat that and Harry forgot everything around him.

When he came back to himself, he was lying on the softest carpet he’d ever felt with his head resting on Draco’s stomach. Something sticky was under his cheek and when he brushed it away impatiently he noticed that it was semi-dried cum. Rubbing over his own front, he encountered the same. Gods, he felt woozy. 

Lifting his head and looking at Draco, he realized that he wasn’t the only one. Draco was sprawled on the floor, heavy-lidded and sporting a huge grin.

“Couldn’t get us to the bed?” Harry teased, nudging him.

“Be happy that I didn’t drop you the instant I was done with you,” Draco replied with a yawn. “Levitate me to bed, will you…”

“Lazy sod,” Harry said affectionately, pushing himself to his feet anyway. 

\--

It was New Year’s Eve and Harry and Draco had successfully dogged all invitations. While he was sorry that he wouldn’t get to wish his friends a happy new year, Harry was glad that they had the night for themselves.

Lately, his schedule had been crazy. He was exhausted from work and training and all the parties hadn’t allowed him nearly enough sleep. Draco wasn’t faring much better. Snape was a textbook example of a slave driver and his parents dragged him along from event to event whenever he was able to leave the Hogwarts dungeons. As it was, both of them had been looking forward to shutting the world out for one night even if it meant disappointing their friends.

Ron and Hermione had been especially sad. They had got married in late autumn and soon there would be three of them. Hermione wasn’t pregnant yet, but they figured by this time next year, they wouldn’t be able to celebrate like they used to. Harry had apologized and explained that he would go insane sooner or later if he didn’t get a reprieve soon, at least for one or two nights. In the end, they had agreed to meet during the first days of the upcoming year, just the four of them, and have a private celebration.

Weddings and children were the dominating subject in many conversations by now. Hannah and Neville planned their wedding for late summer, but estimated that their first child would have to wait a bit longer. While Neville was showing the first signs of magic, it was still early stages and, with all the work in the shop, he depended heavily on Hannah’s help.

Ginny had opted to follow Harry’s example and hooked up with a Slytherin, effectively driving her parents insane. Not only was he a Slytherin, he was also two years younger, meaning he had just finished school a few months ago, and was now working for Neville until he found out what to do with his life.

It was there that Ginny had met him, helping out for a day when Hannah went to see Susan Bones, who had given birth to her first child. Neville had to listen to quite a few tirades from Ron and his brothers about that day, blaming him for introducing Ginny to Graham. But, if asked separately, they both claimed that they were happy together and planned to marry eventually, like next year, and start a family. 

Since both of them only had their N.E.W.T.s and were currently unemployed, living on their own was still a problem. Ginny had an offer from the Holyhead Harpies, but was reluctant to accept because of their plans. The revised plan was to have a child now and then she would go play Quidditch professionally and Graham would stay at home. 

Harry must have made some telling comment, because now, Draco was peering at him intently. 

“What?”

“Do you want to have children…now?”

“Um, no. I mean, you’re in the middle of starting your business and I’m still caught up in this cursed training…”

“Harry, that hardly matters. We wouldn’t be the first couple that has to juggle children and work. And we have the financial means to get help, if necessary.”

“I don’t want my child raised by house-elves and nannies!” Harry huffed.

“You don’t have to. You could stay at home as long as you want. You don’t have to work at all. You know that, right?”

“But I want to work…to do something.”

“Great. Then you’ll find a way. Maybe stay home for a while and return to the job later on? And if everything goes according to plan, I’m going to have more time at my disposal in a few years. We could share,” Draco suggested eagerly.

“ _You_ want this, too!” Harry accused. “Why haven’t you told me before? How long have you been waiting for the opportunity to mention this?”

Draco cautiously put his glass on the balustrade and turn away, looking over the empty fields starting behind Harry’s house. Harry set aside his own glass and sidled up to Draco.

“Look, I’m not angry with you. I just can’t understand why you would keep something like that from me,” he tried to explain his thoughts.

“I know.”

“So maybe we should talk about this? Maybe not tonight, but sometime soon, I think.” He embraced Draco from behind, pressing his face against his neck, inhaling the mixture of Draco and his shampoo.

Covering Harry’s hands with his own, Draco leaned back in his arms. “It’s a deal.”

It was a cold night. Their breath was visible when they spoke and Harry wondered, whether they would be better off inside in front of the fire. But he knew that Draco craved fresh air whenever he had a chance to see something else beside bubbling cauldrons and nasty, smelly ingredients, and so he nestled up to him and enjoyed the peace that was surrounding them.

\--

A few weeks had gone by since New Year’s Eve. Draco had made a point of ensuring that they saw each other regularly, at least once a week. Harry, knowing what Draco had to endure from Snape, appreciated his effort and took it as a sign. So, the next time they had sex, he told Draco to skip the condom. Though they had never had this big, meaningful talk, he knew it was the right decision.

Late in February, Harry suddenly paused in the middle of what he was doing. A thought had occurred to him, and now that he had started to think about it, it wouldn’t leave him alone. First things first, he reminded himself, and rinsed his hair with only a few minor incidents. He was the boyfriend of a future Potions Master. Shouldn’t he have access to a shampoo that didn’t burn when you got it in your eye?

While Harry was drying himself off half-heartedly, his mind returned to the topic at hand. They hadn’t used the condoms for over a month now, and so far, nothing had happened. Of course, the opportunities for sex had been rare, but they had been together at least ten times. Considering what they had been told by Snape, Harry should already have been pregnant ten times over.

That was the first time Harry wondered if they really had been lucky all this time or if there might be another explanation.

\--

“Hey, mate,” Ron greeted Harry, throwing himself on the sofa while still wearing his cloak and shoes.

“Hey.” Harry’s gaze went back to his book, carefully marking the page before he closed it, turning his attention to his friend. “Something wrong?”

“That depends…” Ron muttered exasperatedly.

“What happened?” Harry didn’t bother trying to hide his concern. Ron had dinner with his family that night, and now Harry feared that something had happened to one of them.

“Gin’s up the duff…”

Harry pursed his lips but bit back any comment that wanted to come out. 

“Come on, say what you think,” Ron encouraged, sitting up and shrugging off his cloak. “It can’t be worse than what’s been said at home.” He flopped back down again.

“Uh, well… Congratulations on becoming an uncle.”

“Thank you. And now say what you really want to say!”

That wasn’t an easy demand, Harry thought. The Weasleys loved children; it was in their genes. Most of the elder kids were long since married and had one or two of their own. The only exception, besides Ron and so far Ginny, was Charlie and he was married to his job and, possibly in love with one of his (male) colleagues; but that wasn’t something that was spoken of openly.

So now, the youngest was expecting a baby. While he could understand that her parents would have preferred her to tie the knot beforehand, he didn’t see why it was that much of an issue. They could still marry before the birth, or have a big wedding later on, maybe in combination with the child’s christening.

“Well, I don’t know what you want me to say, to be honest. I mean, I know that it’s quite soon, but it’s still something to be happy about, isn’t it?”

“Maybe I should mention that the father,” he made speech marks with his hands, “has taken a timeout from their relationship until he knows if he wants a child at this moment.”

Harry winced. “Ugh.”

“Exactly. Now, Ginny’s terrified that she’s going to end up a single mum, and, of course, woe is me, she’s been crying into her food all night because her career plans might fall through if he doesn’t come around.” Ron smacked his forehead and rolled his eyes. “I mean, getting a job is important, but she could have done that and focused on the rest later on. No one put a wand to her throat and made her have sex with that oaf.”

“But, don’t you think it’s understandable that she’s worried about her future?” Harry threw in, a bit taken aback at Ron’s reaction.

“Of course! But the point is that _we ___’ve been worried about her future all along and she never listened!” He was almost yelling by now, gesturing wildly. “Everyone told her, repeatedly, that she should take it slow and not rush into anything. Mum and Dad begged her to reconsider her relationship and she always threw their concern back in their faces. So, I ask you, who’s to blame for that mess?”

_“Hmm…” Harry nodded, pensively. Of course, he got where Ron was coming from, but Ginny was his little sister. He should be concentrating on doing everything to help her now instead of wasting his time with petty finger pointing, which was exactly what he told Ron._

_“Merlin, of course we’re going to help her! Mum’s offered to act as a babysitter until the child’s old enough to attend Hogwarts. Dad told her she could live at home until she’s fifty and we’re all going to help her out financially as much as we can. But that doesn’t mean that we have to like it!” Ron hissed._

_Harry inclined his head in agreement. “Do you need something to help calm you? Firewhiskey?”_

_“Thanks, mate, that would be perfect,” Ron replied gratefully._

_Instead of summoning everything, Harry went to fetch the drink and the glasses, giving him a few moments to sort his feelings. He had caught himself thinking for a brief moment that he really wished it was him announcing his pregnancy. And, he didn’t like the jealousy he felt then._

_\--_

_Hermione rushed into the café, Neville and Hannah close behind. “So sorry,” she gasped, putting down her shopping bags and taking a seat. “We ran into Ginny at the apothecary and just had to stay and talk for a few minutes.”_

_“Don’t worry. We’ve ordered something to drink already, water and a bottle of wine for all of us. I hope that’s all right?” Draco asked, getting up and taking some of Hannah’s bags while she frantically tried to figure out how to get everything sorted._

_“Thank you.” Stuffing most of her shopping into a corner, she kept one bag on her lap when she sat down. “Here, take a look at this. But keep it inside the bag, so Neville can’t see it.”_

_She handed the bag to Harry and he peered inside, admiring a pair of beautiful, white shoes. “Oh, wow! When is the big day going to be?” He allowed Draco to have the bag before it was ripped out of his hands._

_“Either this year in late summer or next year in spring, we reckon. The final decision’s still outstanding,” Neville replied. “It depends on business during the next months. One of my customers is planning a huge wedding himself, and if we’re not done in time with his preparations, we’ll have to postpone ours.”_

_“Aw, that’s a shame.”_

_“No, it’s great, actually. Do you have any idea how much this man is going to pay?” Neville asked Harry, smirking. “He’s going to single-handedly pay for our wedding. I would do anything to make him happy.”_

_“Oh. Now that’s a lot of money.”_

_“It is. We can have the wedding we wanted and won’t have to cut into our savings to pay for it. – How are you? You look tired,” Neville remarked._

_“I’m fine. It’s a bit much lately. I’m trying to juggle training and helping out Draco in the evenings, so I’m getting little sleep.”_

_“What are you helping him with?”_

_“He’s survived his apprenticeship and now, he’s looking into what to do with his master’s. He’s not into research. He doesn’t live to have his name on some new invention, so now; we’re trying to figure out what he does want to do._

_Snape suggested trading with rare ingredients or distributing potions on demand. You know, selling the stuff that most apothecaries don’t have on the shelves because there’s little demand. He’s able to brew anything out there, so even the strangest requests wouldn’t be an issue…as long as someone else has already figured out how to make it.”_

_“Ugh, potions… I don’t envy you,” Neville said, grimacing. “But the rest sounds like a great idea. If you’re going to need help with plants, just come to me,” he added when he noticed that he had Draco’s attention, too._

_“We’ll keep that in mind.” Harry poured Draco some wine and asked, “Anyone else want some?”_

_“Yes, please.” Hermione pushed her glass in his direction. “But not full. I need to study later.”_

_“Like always,” Harry smiled and filled her glass to the brim. “Drink this, ‘Mione. You deserve a break!”_

_“Huh!” she exclaimed but took the glass anyway. Mock glaring at Harry, she resumed her conversation with Hannah._

_“Here.” Neville put both his and Hannah’s glass in front of Harry. “Full, please!”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

_Soon, all the glasses were filled and they drank to Ron’s health. He was lying in bed at home, having been sick all night._

_“He’s better now,” Hermione said. “I checked on him before I met up with Nev and Hannah. He asked for more tea and reminded me to bring some take away when I come home. He’s thinking about food again, so he’s on the mend.”_

_“Sounds that way, yes,” Harry said, having seen Ron that morning when he was shivering and slightly green, gagging when he smelled the toast Harry had for breakfast._

_“You’re still allowed to drink, hmm?” Hannah asked sympathetically and Harry flinched, glancing towards Draco for help._

_The side of Draco’s mouth twitched which was a telltale sign that he was agitated. He gritted his teeth and forced a smile on his face. “Yes, well, we cannot all have the same luck.” His tone was friendly enough, but Harry knew that Draco had a hard time accepting Ginny’s pregnancy. He kept referring to her in a bitter tone, barely able to keep his jealousy in check._

_Harry understood him all too well. He also struggled with the unfairness of it all. She didn’t really want that child; she was only going along because it was expected. While he and Draco would have loved to have a baby, but so far, had no success. They tried to have sex at least every other day now, and Harry had already found himself wishing Draco would hurry up one night. It had shocked him to the core and he vowed he would never think that way again._

_He had lasted two weeks._

_Anyways, children, or rather the blatant lack thereof in their life, had been a sore subject for months now and it wouldn’t get better any time soon._

_To their credit, none of their friends felt the need to express their sympathies; instead, they directed the conversation onto something else._

_Hermione picked up the topic again when Neville and Draco started talking business. Hannah had taken her leave, claiming she had promised Susan she would drop by that evening._

_“Harry, look, about this baby issue--”_

_He interrupted her immediately. “Can we not talk about that?”_

_“Of course we could, but I was going to suggest that you see a Healer.”_

_“Excuse me?” Had she been drinking too much? What the hell was she thinking? Trying to send him to a Healer for nothing? Not everyone got pregnant instantly, did they? There was nothing to worry about and, being the bloody know-it-all that she was, she had to know this!_

_“I’ve been thinking, you know, and I can’t help but wonder if Snape’s been right and you should have become pregnant the instant Draco came inside you.”_

_Harry’s eyes widened comically. He couldn’t have heard this right!_

_“Sorry…” Hermione said after having noticed his reaction. “The thing is, we only know what he told you and, maybe now’s the time when you should get another opinion. Of course, the Healer won’t be able to tell you anything about the Furattacti, but he should be able to evaluate your health. If nothing’s wrong with you, we can assume that Snape wasn’t right and you can sit back and wait. – By the way, I hope Draco knows that he’s responsible for the shock of my life. When I came to Hogwarts, he was the very last person I expected to see in Snape’s lab. Why didn’t he tell us that he was coming back?”_

_Harry forced himself to answer one question at a time, starting with the easiest one. “Because Snape didn’t want word to get out that he took on an apprentice. He made an exception for Draco and doesn’t want to be bothered with more than the usual requests.” He then took a deep breath before he hissed, “Are you fucking insane?”_

_Hermione jumped but quickly regained her composure. “No, I’m not. I’ve been giving it a lot of thought because I’m concerned about you. If you don’t want to make an appointment, fine. I’m not forcing you. I just thought I’d let you know that I think you should seek help. Because, like you, I tend to trust Snape’s judgement and, if he’s right, you might have a problem. If you think differently, okay. If you’d rather remain ignorant of possible issues, be my guest. I just ask you to consider one thing, okay?” She waited for him to nod. “If you don’t go to a Healer now, and you learn months or years down the line that something has been wrong all along and, with the right help, it would have been fine; wouldn’t you regret your decision to wait?”_

_Harry’s jaw dropped. Months? Years? He wasn’t even sure if, by then, he would have a partner anymore…_

_“I’m not saying that it has to take that long,” Hermione back-paddled. “I just think you should think about all eventualities…just in case.”_

_“Uh huh…”_

_Later that night, Harry turned over, his back to Draco, when he asked him why he had been so sad all of a sudden. Why, indeed?_

_\--_

_As a master of procrastination, Harry didn’t go to see a Healer immediately after his conversation with Hermione. It wasn’t that he doubted her. If anything, he feared she might be right and something was wrong with him. He was terribly afraid of what that would mean for his relationship. They had agreed to have children. What would happen, if, for some reason, Harry would not be able to carry them after all?_

_Would Draco leave him, looking for another partner who was better suited to fulfil his dreams? Would his parents force him to dump Harry, arguing that they wanted an heir to ensure the continuation of the family?_

_It took him about a month to make an appointment and, when the time had come, he almost cancelled it at the last moment. Shaking his head at his own cowardliness, he hesitantly put the handful of Floo powder back into the tin on the mantle and decided to leave the house instantly. He couldn’t give himself any more time to think. If he did, there was a chance that he would back out eventually, and Harry really wanted to avoid that._

_So, he took a more tedious route to London that morning. Instead of Apparating or travelling there directly by Floo, Harry Floo’d to a quiet alley near a station, boarded the tube and covered the remaining distance between the station and St. Mungo’s by bus. Unfortunately, even the longest journey leads to its destination eventually, and Harry found himself hovering outside of the hospital, dreading the moment when he had to enter._

_No, he corrected himself, entering the building wouldn’t be the worst. Asking for the Healer would be embarrassing, but even then, the worst was still to come. The absolutely worst moment would come when he was standing face to face with Healer Jones, telling him that his partner wasn’t able to impregnate him._

_When he couldn’t postpone it any longer without being late for his appointment, Harry stepped inside the building. Sooner than he wished, he was sitting in front of the Healer’s office and waiting to get called inside. He watched his surroundings wearily, vividly imagining what people would think of him if they knew why he was there. Thankfully, no one was paying any attention to him. Also, fortunately, Healer Jones wasn’t advertised as a specialist for fertility issues, so ordinary passers-by wouldn’t be able to recognize Harry’s problem from the Healer’s specialty._

_“Mr Potter?” A head appeared in the door beside his seat. Harry jumped at being addressed suddenly and got up._

_“Yes. Good morning, Healer Jones.”_

_“Hello, Mr Potter. Please come in.” Healer Jones took his outstretched hand and shook it. Then he stepped aside to let Harry enter the room._

_“Thank you.” Closing the door behind him, Harry looked around. The office was very unobtrusive. It held a desk with two chairs in front of it, some shelves crammed with books and nothing indicated that it belonged to a Healer. There was another door besides the one leading to the corridor and Harry thought that was likely where the examinations took place.._

_“Take a seat, Mr Potter.”_

_Harry sat._

_The Healer, a man in his mid forties, lowered himself into his armchair behind the desk and looked expectantly at Harry._

_“What can I do for you today, Mr Potter?”_

_“Um…” Harry paused. Gods, coming here had been a bad idea. How was he supposed to explain his problems to a stranger? Well, now that he thought about it, he decided that it wouldn’t be better if he knew that man._

_“You didn’t give any particulars when you made the appointment, though I was told that you specifically asked to see me,” Jones said, raising one eyebrow in curiosity._

_Harry gulped. Apparently, he had given away part of his secret by demanding to see a particular Healer. Thanks to Hermione’s obsession with research, she had been able to present him the name of the Healer most qualified in cases like his._

_“Yes, well…” Harry started eventually. He was determined not to leave this office without a few answers, and if he didn’t get started now, he would be here a very long time. “I was told that you’re experienced in male pregnancies.”_

_“Oh.” Jones’ eyes widened. “You’re pregnant?”_

_“No,” Harry admitted._

_“Oh?”_

_“But I would like to be.”_

_“Ah, I see. Well, Mr Potter, while I’ve seen male pregnancies before, I need you to understand that it’s a very rare occurrence and, therefore, this field is not very well studied so far,” the Healer explained and Harry nodded. “I assume you know that very special conditions need to be fulfilled in order for a male to conceive?”_

_“Your assumption is correct, Healer Jones. I… Well, my partner is said to be able to impregnate males, but so far nothing has happened.”_

_“Your partner is a creature?” Jones inquired._

_Harry hesitated. It was common knowledge that he and Draco were a couple. Would Draco appreciate him giving details to some outsider about his condition? He hardly thought so. But, if he wasn’t to be honest, how could he expect help?_

_“He’s a very rare creature, but I don’t think I’d like to go into details.”_

_Jones sighed. “I understand. But, Mr Potter, how may I help you if I’m not even able to say for certain if a pregnancy is possible at all?”_

_“It _is_ possible. As far as we’ve been told, it’s a wonder that I didn’t become pregnant instantly,” Harry replied, hoping against hope that the other man would accept his word for it._

_“I am sorry, Mr Potter, but I fail to see what I can do for you under these circumstances.” He sounded regretful but decided._

_Harry gathered his courage. “Maybe you could look me over? Check if there’s something wrong with me?”_

_“Mr Potter. The male body is not designed for carrying children. We don’t know how it’s possible to make it happen, but, sometimes, it seems to be possible nonetheless. Something in the sperm of a few specific creatures is able to change the body of the future mother.” He used his hands to accompany the term mother in quotation marks before Harry could protest, indignantly. “Well, to be honest, we think it’s in the sperm. No one knows for certain how it’s done. Even the affected beings don’t know specifics. But, the fact remains. Without those changes, a pregnancy can’t develop nor progress. It’s also not really correct to speak of changes. While the body itself changes, there are also additional parts to be found like something resembling a womb.”_

_A womb! Harry gulped and tried his best not to show his horror. Of course, he’d been aware that the baby would have a home while it was growing inside of him. But a womb? And, after the child was out, what would happen to that thing? He shuddered. Then something else occurred to him. How in Merlin’s name was the child supposed to come out of him? Hearing these things from a Healer was infinitely worse than skimming certain chapters of Hermione’s book ages ago._

_“Mr Potter? Mr Potter, are you all right? You’ve got terribly pale all of a sudden.” Jones had come around the desk and now stood in front of Harry, concern written all over his face._

_“Yes,” Harry forced past his lips. “I’m fine.” He would never admit in front of this Healer that he was terrified by what he had learned. If he wanted Jones to believe that he was well informed, he couldn’t let him know how little he really knew._

_The older man nodded in acceptance. Or, maybe he just didn’t want to argue with Harry._

_“Mr Potter, as I’ve mentioned before, I really need to know the details pertaining to your situation. If you’re unwilling to share them, I won’t hold it against you. But at the same time, I won’t be able to help you.”_

_“But why can’t you check me?” Harry demanded, getting a little desperate. He hadn’t expected the Healer to be difficult. He had imagined that he would instantly agree to help him, do a few tests and present him with a solution. Well, maybe it had been less of a solution and more of a dream, but that hardly mattered._

_“Mr Potter, there’s not much we can do to see whether you’re in a position to conceive a child. It really depends on your partner,” Jones said, returning behind his desk. “At the moment, I can examine you and determine that you’re a normal, healthy young man. But, all of that doesn’t help you when it comes to procreation. If you were going to be the father, I would be able to test your sperm, but, as it is, that’s not of importance.” He threw his hands up. “I’m sorry, Mr Potter, but there’s nothing I can do for you.”_

_Harry scrunched up his nose. That reaction was far from satisfying. “But then it won’t matter if you know what kind of creature Draco is or isn’t. Because, no matter what, you won’t be able to find out what’s wrong with me!” Harry pushed himself to his feet. He should have known. Seeking help was never a good idea as people were bound to keep you hanging._

_“That’s partly correct,” Jones conceded. “But if I knew what we’re dealing with, I could try to find out the probability of you getting pregnant in the first place.”_

_“And knowing that would help me why…?” Harry snapped. He wanted to become pregnant. He didn’t want to know how likely it was._

_“There are some creatures that are able to procreate within a same sex couple, but it’s much harder for them to succeed. Then, there are others that have fewer difficulties. If your partner belonged to one of those, we’d know for sure how common or uncommon it’s to wait for a pregnancy for someone in your situation.”_

_“But that won’t speed up anything!” Harry protested. “Why can’t you believe me when I say, that my partner is so bloody fertile that he could impregnate anything. Anything!” He stressed every single syllable._

_Jones rubbed his temples, resting his head in his hands. “All right, Mr Potter. Let’s assume that you’re right. Then, there’s still not much I could test. If you were a woman, I could examine your genital organs; do tests to determine if you have regular ovulations. Most problems we can work around. But you, Mr Potter, don’t have a menstrual cycle to begin with and your body’s still lacking the appropriate organs as well…” Jones trailed off. “What do you expect me to do?”_

_“What would you do if I was a woman and something wasn’t right with me?”_

_“Well, that would depend on the issue. And, it would depend on your partner. We’d check him, too, before making any decision.”_

_“So I would need to bring Draco…?” Harry asked, almost breathlessly. There was no way in hell that Draco would accompany him to St Mungo’s._

_“Like I said: usually, yes. But, you’re a special case. We wouldn’t even know what to look for in your partner.”_

_Harry wanted to cry._

_\--_

_What had followed was a physical examination; nothing like the one’s he’d received from Pomfrey. Oh no, no wand waving and a few incantations. He never ever wanted to get this intimate with a stranger again and so, the moment Harry walked out of the hospital, he was heading for the nearest pub._

_As he was nursing his second Firewhiskey, Harry stared at the parchment the Healer had handed him when he left his office. Jones had found nothing obviously wrong with Harry, but had agreed to give him the receipt of a fertility potion. He had stressed that it was Harry’s decision whether he wanted to take it or not, claiming that he couldn’t, with good conscience, recommend its use. Since he still didn’t know any details about Draco, he was incapable of determining if it was necessary and even helpful. Harry thought that he had only got it because Jones didn’t want to pick a fight with him. Shrugging, he downed the rest of his drink and went home._

_\--_

_That night, Harry anxiously awaited Draco’s arrival. Usually, he’d wait for him in front of the fire, some snacks or at least a bottle of wine waiting._

_But, today, it was different._

_Instead of dimmed lights to create a cosier atmosphere, the room was lit brightly. He had foregone the wine but was prepared to get something stronger at short notice. Dinner was waiting, uncooked, in the kitchen. His stomach was in knots and Harry figured that Draco wouldn’t fare much better once he knew where Harry had been and what he had learned._

_“Harry!” Draco called from the Floo. He sounded surprised at the lack of his usual greeting._

_“In here,” Harry replied and soon Draco appeared in the dining room, looking confused._

_“Eh, hi…”_

_“Hello, Draco.” Harry got up to give him a brief hug. Then he motioned for the blond to take a seat and sat back down._

_“Harry?” Draco was still standing, eying him warily. “You’re not going to break up with me or anything, are you?”_

_Harry shook his head, suppressing the first bout of tears. Funny, wasn’t it? Here he was, terrified that Draco would leave him once he was aware how much of a hassle it would be to get a child with him, and there he was, joking about the situation being vice versa._

_Draco stooped down and peered at him, concern in his eyes._

_“What’s wrong?”_

_“Please, sit down,” Harry pleaded and Draco took a seat. He didn’t choose a chair on the opposite side of the table as he was wont to do when they ate in the dining room, but remained close to him. Harry would have preferred a bit more of a distance between them. He tended to be weepier if Draco, his source of comfort, was near him, but he couldn’t find the strength in himself to send him away. So, he took out the parchment Jones had given him and placed it in front of Draco without a comment._

_“What’s this?” He picked it up and scanned the ingredients. “A potion? What’s it for? Who gave you this?” Draco turned the parchment in his hands, searching for a clue._

_“It’s a fertility potion.”_

_“A _what_?” _

_“A fertility potion. It’s called _Propifecunditas_ ,” Harry replied cautiously. He wasn’t keen on Draco’s reaction to his appointment at the hospital, and so he decided to be a bit reserved with additional information._

_“I repeat: where did you get this? And what for?”_

_“What for? I’d think that’s rather obvious. Maybe I need a little help to get pregnant!” Harry snapped._

_“Harry. These ingredients, in this combination, are not what I would deem healthy,” Draco said, once more getting up. “Please, who told you that taking this would be helpful?”_

_“A Healer,” Harry admitted. The way Draco was acting, he feared that someone out there was trying to poison him. Maybe it would be better to relieve him of that notion._

_“A Healer. Right. So, you’re trying to tell me that you’ve seen a Healer and he or she prescribed this? What’s wrong with you? You’re not sick, are you?”_

_Harry shook his head._

_“So why would you need a potion?”_

_“Because I’m having trouble becoming pregnant.”_

_“Yes, I got that part. And, while I don’t think it’s within a range yet that gives cause for concern, I have to wonder why they would encourage you to take this. I mean, if there’s no indication what is wrong exactly?” Draco squatted in front of him, taking Harry’s hands in his own. “Please tell me everything, okay? I promise I won’t get mad.”_

_Harry scrunched up his nose. Draco would be furious if he knew that Harry had gone to seek help behind his back, no matter what he might be promising now._

_“Harry…” Draco tried again. “Okay. Let me guess. You’ve been at St Mungo’s?”_

_“Hmm.”_

_“All right. And they examined you?”_

_Harry nodded._

_“Did they find anything?”_

_“No…”_

_Draco sighed. “No? And then they encourage you to take this potion? Seriously?”_

_Harry thought how much Draco resembled his father when he was angry. The same ice cold eyes, the same sneer on his usually handsome features. He looked really scary, and Harry wondered what would happen to Jones, if Draco found out that he had been the one to treat Harry that morning._

_“I practically begged him to do something. He said that it’s impossible for him to get an idea of my situation, if I was not going to tell him what kind of creature you are. I didn’t want to tell him about the Furattacti. He doesn’t need to know that, does he?” Harry raised his gaze from the floor and looked at Draco. He hoped he had done the right thing._

_“Well,” Draco started slowly, “I’m happy to know that you’re respecting my privacy, but I think that it’s really hard for him to evaluate what’s going on when he doesn’t even know the basics. So, you told him that your partner should have been able to knock you up long ago? And since nothing has happened so far, that you’d like to speed things up a little?”_

_Harry shrugged. The way Draco recounted it, it did sound a little childish and impatient._

_“The point is: you’re most possibly right. Assuming that my master knows what he’s talking about, we should have become parents long ago. We’re in agreement that, usually, he’s right. So, I’m with you in so far, that you say you want to try out new things. What I don’t understand is the reaction of that Healer. You don’t tell people to swallow some random potions and pray that they will help. He should strive to find out what, exactly, needs to be treated and then prescribe the respective potion for whatever ailment there may be.”_

_Draco sat back on his haunches. He looked rather unhappy and Harry’s conscience was killing him. He had persuaded the Healer to help him and, considering Draco’s reaction, that hadn’t been the right thing to do._

_“So I shouldn’t take it?” he asked meekly. He had been hoping that the potion would be the solution to all their problems and, realizing that he might have got that wrong, was really daunting._

_“You should ask Snape,” Draco stated and Harry blinked. The blond had to be insane to even voice that suggestion._

_“You’re also a Potions master. You do it!”_

_“Look, Harry. I could throw this together like it’s written on here, no problem. I know what all of these ingredients are and how they might react together. But I don’t have his gift in analyzing a potion and adapting it to your specific needs,” Draco said. “There’s a reason why I don’t specialize in research.”_

_“But why can’t I take the potion the Healer wanted me to take?” Harry didn’t understand. Jones had seen him and had thought it was a good idea for him to get this potion. Why in Merlin’s name would Draco think differently?_

_“Because it looks like it’s made for women. And that’s something you’re most certainly not! You don’t need anything to stimulate your ovaries because you don’t have any. Or maybe it’s meant to help build up the uterine lining…which is also something you don’t need,” Draco said, forcefully, before he continued in a calmer tone, “Also, Snape seems to know a few things about my species. I’ve got hopes that he would take his knowledge into account while he modified the potion for you.”_

_“So you’d be fine with me trying it…if Snape enhanced it?” Harry asked, his hope returning._

_“If he deems it not dangerous at all, yes,” Draco said, clearly uncomfortable with the decision. But Harry didn’t care. The most important thing was that Draco had agreed for them to start the next stage of the planning. Tonight, Harry would not think about the moment when he would have to face Snape. Tonight, he would dare to look forward to a happy ending._

_\--_

_Harry had hoped in vain that he’d be able to persuade Draco to go to Snape for him. When he had been disappointed, he had hoped that Draco would, at least, accompany him. Well, no such luck. Draco had argued that he wasn’t the one who thought it was a good idea and he’d die if he had to talk to Snape about anything remotely related to (his own) procreation._

_At first, Harry had been furious. Both of them wanted to be parents and now everything was left to him? The longer he thought about it, the more he could see it from Draco’s perspective. Snape and his first and only apprentice had a very special relationship. Something had developed between them, something that could suffer. And though Draco hadn’t mentioned it, Harry figured that he was scared of the possible changes and didn’t want to lose the respect he had worked for so hard._

_So, he had been lying awake a few nights, trying to find the words he wanted to say when he was standing in front of Snape, and then he had Floo-called him. Now that he was in the familiar office, standing in front of a desk he had seen far too often, he couldn’t remember one carefully laid out sentence._

_“Mr Potter, as much as I like being the centre of your attention, I would prefer if you start talking soon. Today, if you please.” Snape set aside another assignment and Harry winced in sympathy when he noticed the amount of red on the parchment._

_“I… I need a potion and would like to ask you for your help,” he said in a rush before he lost his nerve._

_“You need a potion and have come to see a Potions master. I am impressed, Mr Potter,” Snape drawled. “However, I seem to remember that you were involved with a quite talented one, were you not?”_

_Harry sniffed. Snape knew damn well that he and Draco was a couple, but, of course, he couldn’t ask him outright what he wanted to know like any normal person would do. Snape never did anything the normal way._

_“We’re still together and happy, Professor. Thanks for asking.”_

_“I didn’t. But it’s good to know,” Snape commented in a bored tone. “Thank you.” He reached for another parchment from his stack and started reading, obviously having lost interest in their conversation._

_The only sound that could be heard was the scratching of Snape’s quill as he tore apart another unlucky student’s work. Harry thought that the student body must miss Draco like crazy. During the years he had spent as Snape’s apprentice, there had been many times where Snape had him mark tests and assignments. Unlike Snape, Draco didn’t let his temper rule his marking and he didn’t take pleasure out of ripping other people’s work to shreds._

_Snape looked up. “You’re still here? – Thank you for your visit, it was nice seeing you again. By the way, you might want to go see the Headmistress before you leave. I was told she has been trying to contact you for quite a while.”_

_Frowning, Harry wondered why Snape would know what McGonagall was up to, but then he remembered that he was still acting as Deputy Headmaster. It was a miracle that those two hadn’t killed each other yet, but despite what they said out loud, they seemed to work well together and Hogwarts was doing great under their direction. Each year, the number of new students set a new record._

_“Actually, I wasn’t about to leave just yet…” Harry dared to say. He almost expected Snape to kick him out, or, also likely, ignore him like he had done during the last ten minutes, but he was pleasantly surprised._

_“Fine.” Snape sighed. “You require a potion, you say. What kind of potion? And please enlighten me why you would not ask Draco when he is perfectly capable of brewing any potion out there. If it is anything that will harm him in any way, rest assured that you will find yourself on the other side of this door faster than you ever imagined. And it will not be painless.”_

_Harry’s hackles rose instantly. Who did that git think he was? Accusing Harry of something nefarious or Merlin knew what he had been implying._

_“Draco was the one who suggested coming to you. And I’ll be sure to let him know how wrong he was!” Harry whirled around and stormed towards the door. He wouldn’t stay in the same room with that man one more second. Right now, he’d prefer the company of a rabid Hippogriff to the Potions Professor._

_The door snapped shut right in front of him and Harry, who wasn’t able to stop in time, ran into it. Cursing, he banged his fist against the wood._

_“Stop this!” Snape demanded. He got to his feet and joined Harry at the door. “Leave the door be, it doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment from you.” He didn’t add ‘you idiot’. Not aloud, at least._

_Harry was tempted to ask whether Snape wanted to swap places with the door, but figured that that wouldn’t go down very well. He put his hand down anyways, sniffing angrily._

_“Now, tell me what kind of potion we are talking about,” Snape said. He wasn’t exactly asking, but he also wasn’t demanding anymore. For Snape, he sounded pretty neutral. But Harry wasn’t in a forgiving mood after the dressing down he just got – undeserved, in his opinion._

_“You’re wasting both our times,” Snape reminded him, when he still hadn’t answered the question thirty seconds later. He had folded his arms in front of his chest and, if he had been anyone else, Harry was certain that the man would have tapped his foot._

_Debating with himself, Harry reached inside his pocket and fingered the parchment with the potions receipt on it. He knew that he either got over his dislike for Snape, asking him already, or he could throw the receipt away and never mention it again. He couldn’t leave this room and expect any wonders. Scowling and hating his life, Harry handed the parchment over wordlessly._

_Snape took the crumpled ball from him but frowned. “And now? Am I supposed to dispose of your rubbish for you?”_

_Why no one had ever killed Snape for his unbearable character was beyond Harry, but he bit his tongue and asked as politely as he could, “Would you please read it, sir?”_

_“Hmm…” Snape unfolded it and scanned the writing. Unlike Draco, Snape’s superior experience seemed to help him discern what he was looking at almost instantly. “A fertility potion?” Snape rolled his eyes. “I do not know what you’re getting at, but Draco can throw this together in about half an hour. I do not understand why he would send you to me for that,” he sneered, appalled that someone would dare bothering him with such minor concerns._

_“He said it might need to get altered…”_

_“How so? I hope the Healer who prescribed this also gave a few directions on how and when it needs to be taken?” Snape was holding out the parchment, waiting for Harry to take it from him._

_Harry blushed. Snape would laugh so hard that the whole school would be alerted to the strange noise coming from his office. He just couldn’t say this…_

_“The potion is for me,” he blurted out._

_“Excuse me?” Snape didn’t laugh. A mixture of confusion and anger dominated his features as he asked Harry, almost kindly, to please take a seat. Harry complied, his feet moving of their own accord._

_The parchment still in hand, Snape sat down in the chair beside him instead of walking around his desk._

_“Explain this, Mr Potter. What imbecile of a Healer would give _you_ this kind of potion? What are they hoping to accomplish?”_

_“I’m still not pregnant,” Harry said in a quiet voice. Of course, he was stating the obvious, but he didn’t quite know what else to say. He didn’t want Snape to know that he’d been to St Mungo’s and badgered the Healer until he agreed to ‘help’ him._

_“Yes, I figured that out,” Snape said, but stopped at that. “I still do not understand why they would suggest that you take this? They are aware that your partner is a Furattactus?”_

_Harry shook his head, keeping his eyes cast to the floor. The irregularly sized stones were fascinating._

_“They were aware that a male was to ingest that potion? And they did not ask what kind of creature was supposed to render a pregnancy possible?”_

_This time, he gave a tentative nod, before he added sheepishly, “Healer Jones did ask, but I didn’t want to tell him too much about Draco. I didn’t want to go behind his back any more than I had to.”_

_“He did not know,” Snape didn’t ask. Harry figured that the guilt was plainly written on his face. “Is anything wrong with you, Mr Potter?”_

_“No, sir.”_

_“Then why would you want to take anything? Why not wait?”_

_“Because you said that I would become pregnant instantly. And it’s been years. Sir.”_

_“Healer Jones, was it?” When Harry nodded, Snape continued. “What did he look for? I do not expect you to remember the incantations of the diagnostic spells, but I would like you to list everything you remember.”_

_“What? No!” Harry exclaimed, paling this time._

_Snape merely raised an eyebrow at his outburst. “No?”_

_Shaking his head furiously, Harry regretted coming to Hogwarts with new fervour._

_“Ah…” Understanding rang in Snape’s tone. “He did not leave it at magical examinations, did he? – I do not think I require a verbal answer, Mr Potter. Your complexion is pointer enough.”_

_Was he supposed to thank him for his understanding? Harry couldn’t make up his mind and, therefore, he remained quiet._

_“Since you will not ask me outright, let me assure you that it is highly unlikely that your problems are caused by Draco. So it was…I am not going to say it was all right. Let us say, the Healer’s decision would not have been much different, if he had had the chance to see both of you. That he has also found nothing wrong with you is, on the one hand, a blessing. On the other hand, though, it’s rather unfortunate. If there had been anything physically wrong, it would have presented a starting-point to help.” Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. “As it is, I am not happy with the thought of feeding you potions. - _Let_ me finish, Mr Potter!” he snapped, holding up his hand when Harry opened his mouth to protest._

_“I will see what I can do for you in regards to a potion. If you think you need it, you actually do. If I send you back home without a vial, you are going to drive yourself insane with worry and self-reproaches…not that it would be a difficult feat.” The Potions master stood and walked to the door that, as Harry knew, was leading to his lab. “I will remain true to the idea of the potion, but almost everything will have to be replaced.”_

_Harry watched him disappear, unsure if he was expected to follow, or if Snape wanted him to wait in the office._

_“Potter, come inside and help prepare the ingredients. Since it will be you that is going to end up poisoned, I think it is safe to take the risk,” the friendly invitation was coming from within the lab. Harry rolled his eyes and followed the voice._

_Soon, he was standing in front of a small pile of herbs, some of them consisting only of the green parts, others complete plants. He dutifully chopped, diced or crushed them according to Snape’s instructions and took special care to work neatly._

_“Not satisfying, but sufficient,” the older man remarked after having thrown a cursory glance at Harry’s work. “Be especially careful with the next one, Potter. This plant is monocarpic and so the flowers are not easy to come by.”_

_Not knowing what the Professor was talking about, Harry opted to nod in understanding._

_“It means that these plants only flower once in their lifetime and then they die,” Snape explained without being asked and Harry wondered why the man had never been so willing to share his knowledge when he had been a student. “Actually, that is something you were supposed to learn sometime during third or fourth year Herbology.”_

_“Thank you for the reminder,” Harry said, deliberately leaving open what he had been referring to. It could either express sincere thanks or hold a slight stab; whatever Snape decided to hear was fine with Harry._

_Someone must have secretly sipped a Calming Draught, Harry thought. Snape didn’t show any reaction that he had heard what Harry had said. His attention was focused on the potion as he was stirring in the ingredients in an order only he understood._

_“This has to simmer for another ten minutes and then I can bottle it,” he declared finally, looking smug. “I think I found a perfect mixture for you. I will not vouch for an instant success, I am not naïve. I am not naive. But it will not harm you in any way and, with a bit of luck, it will help your body find the right way.”_

_“Thank you, Professor Snape,” Harry said, and this time he meant it from the bottom of his heart._

_“Hmm.”_

_\--_

_“When do you have to start with this?” Draco pointed towards the vial Harry had placed carefully on the shelf in the bedroom._

_“He said it wouldn’t matter. Since I don’t have a cycle, every day is pretty much like the last and I can start whenever I feel like it.”_

_Draco nodded. “How many times a day? Once? Twice?”_

_“The former. He suggested taking it in the morning before breakfast, but again, it probably won’t matter that much,” Harry replied. He glanced once more at the vial, making sure that it wasn’t visible from the door. He didn’t want anyone to see it, should they walk past the room. It wasn’t something he wanted to explain._

_“Good. Are there any side effects to be expected?”_

_“Well, I didn’t ask and he didn’t say. So, no, I guess.”_

_“Then there are none,” Draco stated with absolute certainty. “Did he give you a recipe? That way, you wouldn’t have to go back there for the next dose.”_

_“No, he didn’t. He said you wanted him to start it, and now he would bring it to an end,” Harry replied, hoping that Draco wouldn’t assume that Snape didn’t trust him to do it correctly._

_Fortunately, Draco didn’t seem to be offended. He grinned and said, “That’s typical for him. I bet that the next time you go to see him, he’s going to ask you a dozen questions and then present you an improved version of the potion. I assume this one already is nothing like the one the Healer wanted you to take.”_

_“I think so,” Harry agreed. “I didn’t recognize everything that was on the list, but he only read it once and when we started brewing, he seemed to know what he was doing without consulting any text.”_

_“He was making it up as he went,” Draco said, admiration audible in his voice. “That’s something I won’t ever be able to do. I can brew anything – as long as I have a recipe. I can also explain why something must be done the way it has to be done, and I can mostly discern if anything is wrong. But, if I was asked to invent a potion, it would take me ages to find the correct mixture. He can do it without any effort.” He looked at Harry. “That’s why I sent you to him.”_

_“I know. And he was actually pretty decent towards me. A few insults, but no jokes about my situation.”_

_“Are you mad that I didn’t want to come with you?”_

_Harry pondered his answer. He hadn’t been happy when Draco had refused to accompany him. But he had understood the reasons and it had been all right._

_“No, not any more.”_

_Draco winced. “I’m sorry. But it would have been too awkward… I’m supposed to be a Potions master now, too, and I just can’t go back to my master and beg him for help. It’s been hard enough to tell you that I’m not able to help. It would have been worse to admit the same in front of him.”_

_“It’s okay. Like I said, I’m not angry any more and I assumed that something like that would be the reason,” Harry assured him. Maybe it really had been for the best. If Draco and Snape had been ganging up on him, telling him in unison what a fool he had been for going to the hospital, he would have died._

_Reaching for him, Draco pulled Harry into his arms. “Thank you. I hope I’ll be of more help to you from now on.”_

_“It’s not like you’re the worst partner in the world!” Harry protested. Listening to Draco blaming himself made it all too easy for him to forget that he hadn’t given him a chance to come with him to the hospital. And he did want to remember._

_“No, I’m sure there are worse.” Draco chuckled. “And now I’m going to be the epitome of a perfect little wife and see that dinner will be ready when your guests arrive.”_

_“Guests?” Harry frowned._

_“Harry… You remember asking Ron and Hermione over tonight?”_

_“Oh Merlin!” Harry smacked his palm against his forehead, grazing Draco’s cheek with his nails and causing him to yelp. “Sorry.”_

_“Yes. You’re maiming me and all I get is an insincere apology?” Draco huffed, but when Harry tried to pull back from him, he didn’t let go. “Stay where you are. I’m hurt, I need to be comforted!”_

_Harry rolled his eyes at his whiny tone and patted his back. “There. And now I need to tell Winky that she’s going to ignore the leaking rain pipe and do what she can to have something resembling dinner ready in time. Uh…when is it time?”_

_“At seven,” Draco said, demonstratively rubbing his cheek._

_Harry turned them around until he was able to catch a glimpse of the clock. “Oh Merlin!”_

_This time, though, Draco was quick enough to duck out of the way, before he suffered another scratch._

_\--_

_With Winky’s help, Draco and Harry had been able to make it appear as if their entire day had been spent looking forward to the arrival of their guests._

_Harry had cleaned the house in record time, and Winky had graciously allowed Draco to set foot inside the kitchen and help. Harry had been sworn to secrecy, forced to vow that he would never tell his in-laws how much talent their son showed in front of a cooker._

_After dinner, Hermione had taken Harry aside, leaving their significant others to themselves. Fortunately, these days, they easily found something to talk about and Harry didn’t have to worry about them._

_“Let me guess… You want to know if I’ve seen a Healer yet,” Harry said the instant they were out of hearing distance._

_Hermione grinned lopsidedly. “Am I that obvious?”_

_“I was wondering how long it would take until you asked,” he admitted, smiling. He knew that she wasn’t out for gossip, but was concerned about him. “I have some potion I need to take, but there’s nothing wrong with me. Well, nothing he could find,” he corrected._

_“Oh. I’m so sorry. I was actually hoping you would be handed a solution.”_

_“Me too. I still don’t know what could be the problem. Snape hasn’t said anything, either.”_

_“You asked him?” Hermione sounded surprised._

_Putting down his tea cup, Harry nodded. “Yes. Well, that wasn’t why I went to see him. He’s the one who’s going to supply me with the potion.”_

_“Is it that unique?”_

_“It’s custom-made. And Draco said he’d feel better if Snape would be the one to brew it,” Harry explained, unable to meet her gaze. Instead, he busied himself stirring even more sugar into his tea. If he wasn’t careful, he’d need a knife to carve it out of the cup._

_“Well, I’m sure you’re in the best hands now. But…what is the potion supposed to do if everything is okay?”_

_Harry nodded. “That’s exactly Draco’s sentiment.”_

_“And Professor Snape?”_

_“He’s not convinced that it’s going to help, but figures it won’t harm me. I think he relented so I would have something to keep up my hopes. – And if you start gushing now, I’m going to scream,” he promised when he looked up in time to see her eyes softening. Then he begged, “Can we change the topic, please?”_

_“Certainly,” Hermione said immediately and suggested, “You know, we could start thinking of what to get Hannah and Neville for their wedding.”_

_“We don’t even know a date,” Harry whined. He hated trying to come up with ‘the perfect present’. Most of the time, it wasn’t as perfect as the giver thought it was, and then lots of time and creativity and money had gone to waste._

_She huffed. “You can choose between talking about the present and your visit with the Professor.”_

_“Oh, you know, I’m glad that you mentioned it. I think they would love a garden swing,” Harry said, entirely ignoring the stupid choice she had given him. It hadn’t even been a real choice, had it? It meant he was stuck between a rock and a hard place._

_“A garden swing? I never heard any of them mentioning that they wanted one.” She sounded doubtful._

_“Well, no. Because they probably don’t even know what it is,” Harry argued. Once he had said it out loud, he actually thought that the idea had merit. “But think about it. They both love their plants and like being close to them, even if they’re not working. And the garden swing would allow them to relax in the middle of their garden.”_

_“They’re living above the shop,” Hermione threw in._

_“And, behind the shop, there are the greenhouses and a lawn. There’s enough place for a garden swing. Look. If you think it’s a bad idea, then say so. But I think we should ask Draco and Ron before we rule it out,” Harry defended his suggestion. If anything, Hermione wasn’t wasting another thought about the potion. He was a genius._

_“Okay,” Hermione agreed readily. “Let’s go find them. And stop pouting. I didn’t outright dismiss your idea.”_

_“No, you didn’t. But you’re also not acting like you favour it. What did you have in mind?” Harry asked. Hermione had to have a plan; otherwise, she wouldn’t have started on that subject._

_“I was wondering if we should get them traditional robes for the ceremony. Neville told Ron that they had decided they didn’t need knick-knack like that, but I think he’s only saying that because they don’t have the funds to pay for them. And since he doesn’t want to ask his grandmother for help, he’s telling himself that he doesn’t want it.”_

_“What about Hannah’s family? Maybe they want to get them robes?” Harry asked. He rather liked Hermione’s idea, but he didn’t want to ruin someone else’s plans, either. Besides, hadn’t Neville said that he was becoming rich because of this one major customer?_

_“From what she told me, I understand that they wanted to get them furniture. A new bedroom, I think. Or was it a dining room? Right now, all they have has been gathered from the attics of various relations, because all of the extra money they make is put aside for the wedding party.”_

_Harry nodded. He’d noticed the same when he had been visiting them. All their money had been put into the store and, therefore, not much had been left for the living quarters. Ron had told him that a celebration with about a hundred of people was expensive, so he could also understand that part._

_“Okay,” he said finally. “If Draco and Ron are in, we can go for this. Neville is regaining some of his magic, and being dressed like a proper wizard for his wedding only seems right.”_

_“He has made progress?” Hermione asked. “I haven’t seen him for a while and, last time we talked about that, he said he wasn’t sure if it’s real or he’s only imagining things because he wants them to be true. Wishful thinking, you know?”_

_Harry knew only too well what she was talking about. That sounded like him, closely watching his body for changes. Every pinch and hurt he felt, he analyzed for hours, hoping that it was the first sign of a pregnancy. So far, he had always been disappointed._

_“No, he’s definitely improving. At first, it was like accidental magic. Little things, like a glass that fell to the ground and didn’t shatter. One could argue that it was luck, but then, more things like that happened. By now, he’s able to levitate things so it makes his work less difficult. And the plants respond differently to him. He’s getting there,” Harry said a happy undertone in his voice._

_He was not only happy for Neville. Of course, he liked seeing his friend improve. But what made Neville’s success even more precious, was the way Draco flourished whenever he was hearing more good news. Despite their own problems, a big weight seemed to fall from him, and, slowly but surely, he could let go of his guilt._

_\--_


	7. Chapter 7

Aurelia Weasley was born on a Sunday night, shortly after midnight. At one in the morning, the proud uncle Floo-called his best friend to share the news.

“Congratulations, Ron. And tell Ginny that we wish her all the best,” Harry forced past his lips. After only a few moments, his cheeks already hurt from keeping the fake smile on his face.

“Yes, of course. Do you want to see her?”

Harry initial response was a loud ‘no’, but he managed to bite it back in time. No, he didn’t want to see his ex-girlfriend with her newborn daughter. No, he wouldn’t like to admire a tiny baby when he himself still had to wait for a miracle. No, he didn’t want to meet the proud grandparents and uncles. No, no, no!

He didn’t say any of that. What he said instead was, “I would like to congratulate her personally eventually, but I don’t want to intrude. I’m sure the family would like to be alone during the next few days.”

Ron looked puzzled. “You are family, Harry. So, I’ll let her know that you will come by shortly?”

 _If you must…_ “Sure, Ron. I’ll talk to Draco,” Harry promised, cursing himself for being such a wimp.

“Great! I’ll need to go back now. I’m worried about Hermione, because last time I saw her, my mother was almost choking her in her embrace. Not to mention, that she was blubbering all over her.”

They said goodbye and Harry trudged back to the bedroom. Draco was still lying on the bed, not a piece of clothing on his body, but, somehow, the sight of him didn’t do anything for Harry. Keeping on the dressing gown he had grabbed when he answered Ron’s call, he flopped back down onto the mattress.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “I thought we agreed that, tonight, this bed was only to be entered garment-free?”

“Oh, do shut up,” Harry growled, rolling onto his side and turning his back on his partner.

He couldn’t deal with flippant remarks right now, he was too frustrated. Their sex-life wasn’t what it had been anymore, thanks to their desperate tries for a child. There was nothing spontaneous about it. Nowadays, they made sure to have sex twice a week, no matter if they felt like it or not. Most often, it was not. But, it was necessary, and, dutifully, they tried their best.

Tonight had been the first night in quite a long time, when somehow, both of them had been in the mood, and so they had spent a few nice hours cuddled up together on the sofa before they retreated to the bedroom for the more interesting part. They had just arranged themselves on the bed when the alarm had chimed; informing them that someone required their attention.

And now, what had started out as one of the rare good nights had turned sour within a few short moments.

Draco huffed and Harry waited for a sharp rebuke. No one told Draco Malfoy to shut up without earning them an equally charming comeback.

“What happened?” Draco asked quietly and Harry winced. Getting yelled at wasn’t something he welcomed, but sometimes, understanding was even harder to bear.

“Ron called. Ginny and Graham’s daughter has been born,” Harry recounted in a flat tone.

“Oh,” was all Draco said. Harry heard him getting up and then the rustling of clothes was audible. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who had lost all interest in their former plans.

\--

Seeing Aurelia for the first time wasn’t as bad as Harry had suspected. He had taken great pains to make sure that no one else would be there when he and Draco visited, and it almost worked. The only one present, besides the child and her mother, was George. That was okay, Harry thought. George wouldn’t make any unwelcome comments about their own childless life, and he wasn’t gushing over the baby until Harry thought he might be sick.

Ginny was still moving cautiously. Obviously, the birth hadn’t been without complications, but, thankfully, no one felt the need to force details upon them.

Half an hour into their visit, Harry found himself on the sofa, sitting beside Draco who was cradling the child in his arms. He didn’t dare watch him too closely. Draco looked so happy with Aurelia, and it pained Harry to know that he wasn’t able to give him that.

“Can I bring you anything?” George asked, apparently remembering that someone had to act as the host since his sister was indisposed.

Draco looked up and declined with a smile. “Thank you. – Now, where’s the happy father? Surely he’s not gone to work and left you all to yourself?”

Harry had been wondering about that, too. While not everything was sunshine and roses in their relationship, Ginny and Graham had managed to work together during the last weeks of the pregnancy.

 

“Yes, he is.” Ginny sighed. “Neville found him a new job, one where he’s needed four days a week. And, since he’s only started a month ago, he felt that he couldn’t miss more than two days in a row.”

“Hmm,” Draco frowned. “But aren’t there exceptions for times like this? I should say that the birth of your first child is reason enough to be missing for a while.”

“Well, he’s still on probation. So far, he’s not able to support us with this job, but we hope that, by the time probations ends, he’ll get a raise and they’re going to agree to let him come in five days a week,” Ginny said, smiling at her daughter as she reached for one of Draco’s fingers that were resting on her chest.

“Do you want to hold her?” Draco asked Harry, who instantly proceeded to cough into the crook of his arm.

“No, I’d rather give it a miss this time. I don’t want to infect her with anything,” he lied smoothly. Draco gave him a confused look, but Ginny nodded in understanding.

“That’s fine. She’s not going anywhere, and there’ll always be a next time.”

Harry smiled and coughed softly, enough to play up his poor health but not so much it would scare her.

“Do you want me to make you some tea?” George offered, already getting up.

“No, thank you. I think we should head home soon.” Draco answered in Harry’s stead. He still looked at him strangely and Harry braced himself for the dressing down he’d get the moment they were alone.

“Already?” Ginny asked, but then she smiled apologetically. “Of course. I’m sure you have a lot to do. Harry, my mother said you’re going to teach DADA at Hogwarts?”

“She’s right. I don’t know where she heard that, though. We’ve only known about that since the day before yesterday,” Harry replied, slightly unnerved. It had been years since the war and yet, the whole world still seemed to know about his every move.

“I’m not sure.” Ginny shrugged, holding out her arms to receive her daughter back from Draco who had got to his feet. “Here, give her to me. Shush, honey, it’s all right. The uncle doesn’t have time to hold you all day.” Harry wanted to smack her for that comment. What did she think she was saying? That Draco had become bored and wanted to get rid of the child? As if bouncing children was the only worthwhile way to spend your time. He suppressed a comment and hoped to Merlin that his anger didn’t show on his face.

“No, the uncle has to return to his job so he is able to fund his ridiculously lavish lifestyle and shower his gorgeous partner with presents, just because he can,” Draco said, using the same sweet tone she had employed. 

Ginny blinked and didn’t seem to know how she should react. To her right, George snickered.

“Anyways, Mum said, that you were going to replace the current Professor?”

“Yes.” Harry nodded. “It’s only for the current school year, because she left at short notice and McGonagall is really desperate. She has been searching high and low for weeks and is really grateful that I agreed to help her out.”

Harry had been very pleased about McGonagall’s call for help. He really didn’t want to continue his career plans with the Aurors and, this way, he had an excuse. At first, his conscience had bugged him. He had been afraid that he would let Draco down when he needed him. But when he mentioned his concerns, Draco had told him to accept or he’d do it for him and drag him to Scotland himself.

“Why didn’t she ask you right away?”

“She wanted to. She had been trying to contact Harry, but, unfortunately, the one time he was at Hogwarts and the message was passed on to him, he was in a hurry when he left and couldn’t see her,” Draco said coldly. Apparently, he, like Harry, had heard the hinted insult in Ginny’s question. Harry hadn’t been second best; he just hadn’t been available right away.

Draco motioned for Harry to get up. Both said their goodbyes to Ginny and Aurelia and then George saw them out.

Once they were out of earshot, George said, “Please don’t be mad at her. I know, she can be a bit much lately, but if she was not running down other people’s lives, she’d be forced to accept that not everything goes well for her.”

Draco grunted his acknowledgement and Harry said, “It’s okay. Being a mum is certainly overwhelming and maybe she’s not thinking rationally at the moment.”

“But she is!” Draco insisted, sneering, and George nodded sagely.

\--

On the afternoon before his first day as a teacher, Draco had insisted on accompanying Harry to Hogwarts. He had claimed that he wanted to ensure that they would give him decent chambers and that he had wanted to see Snape again for some time now. That way, he’d be able to combine it.

Harry, for his part, didn’t look forward to seeing the Potions master again. He still recalled their last meeting, when he had to talk the man into providing him with the potion, and he wasn’t keen on getting pestered with questions. His only hope was that Snape would show some mercy, and not ask him in the Great Hall in front of his new colleagues.

After they had inspected what were to be Harry’s rooms, they were sauntering towards the dungeons.

“Are you sure you want to stay here? You could always live at home and Floo to the castle each morning before classes.”

Shrugging, Harry said, “Yes, I could. But, I think it’s more convenient this way. I won’t be that distracted at night when I’m here, so marking tests and assignments might be easier. Besides, the more I get done during the week, the more free time I will have on the weekends.”

Draco cocked his head. “If you should decide to use it wisely, you’ll know where to find me.”

“Naturally.” Harry grinned. Taking a closer look at his surroundings, his smile froze on his face. Only a few feet separated them from his impending doom, mostly called Snape.

“What are you so worried about?” Draco inquired. “You said he’d been decent the last time. Why would you think he’d turn all nasty this time around?”

“Experience,” Harry snapped, “years and years of experience.”

“Oh, come on. It wasn’t that bad during the last years, was it?” Draco asked, frowning.

“Not for you. He doesn’t feel the need to verbally rip you to tiny shreds every time he sees you.” Harry sighed and conceded, “Okay, it’s not so bad anymore. But it’s bad enough, and he won’t ever be my most favourite person.”

“Actually, that’s desirable, because your most favourite person should be me.”

“Prat,” Harry said fondly and pushed Draco in front of him. The blond was the one who wanted to visit Snape, ergo, he should be the one to knock and face the brunt of his temper.

Draco didn’t seem to mind if his confident knock was any indication. While they waited, they didn’t hear Snape approaching the door from the inside, and so they jumped when it was suddenly thrown open.

“Hello, Severus,” Draco greeted the man calmly, being quick to regain his composure.

“Draco. Mr Potter.” Snape stepped aside and waved them inside. His expression remained neutral and Harry thought it was better than being faced with his usual glare.

“Good afternoon, Professor Snape,” Harry said as he paused in the middle of the room beside Draco, waiting for the older man to offer them a seat.

“Sit down,” Snape growled, gesturing towards the couch.

They sat.

Normal people would ask their guests if they wanted something to drink. Snape, of course, wasn’t like normal people. He lowered himself into an armchair, folded his hands in his lap and looked at them expectantly. 

Well, Harry noted, at least with Draco at his side he wasn’t asked to what Snape owed the ‘pleasure’ of his visit.

“Well, Severus, meet your new fellow staff member,” Draco announced, pointing towards Harry. 

“Hmm.” Snape nodded and while he didn’t look ecstatic, he didn’t appear unnerved. “Have fun, Mr Potter. Most of the current student body is especially inapt.”

Harry blinked. He didn’t quite know what he was supposed to say in answer to Snape’s comment.

“That wonderful, hmm?” Draco asked with a hint of understanding in his voice. “Well, Harry loves teaching Defence and he’s got a little experience already. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

Snape smirked. “They won’t be able to explode his classroom, but I imagine taking one or two of the little dunderheads to the hospital wing each lesson can also be quite trying in the long run.”

“I’m optimistic that nothing bad is about to happen during classes,” Harry chimed in. Honestly, what did Snape take him for? He would make sure that his students were safe at all times.

“I hope you’re right,” Snape commented sincerely. He thought for a moment, staring at Harry. “Do you still have something left of the Fecundilentus potion?”

“Is that what you called it?” Draco wanted to know, leaning forward in his seat. “Have you had the chance to brew another batch? Any changes?” he asked eagerly. 

Harry suppressed a yawn. Yes, the potion concerned him, but that didn’t mean he liked talking about it.

“I made some changes…but only theoretically. I wanted to wait with starting the brewing process until I could ask Mr Potter a few questions.”

“Well, here we are,” Draco said and Harry marvelled that he finally was showing some interest. Of course, that was a bit unfair. Draco had never been ‘not’ interested. 

Merlin, but he felt irritated already. All of them were in for some joyous hours.

Snape left the room and when he returned, he had a very long parchment with him. Harry estimated its length to be about two feet and he really, really wished that he had never entered that room.

\--

‘Some changes’ had been the understatement of the century. After Harry had answered the extensive list of questions, some of them with Draco’s help, the Potions masters had dismissed him, suggesting that he should go and visit Dumbledore’s portrait. Without waiting for him to leave Snape’s quarters, they had disappeared behind a door, most likely leading to a private lab.

Harry had watched them leave and thanked Merlin that he had been let off that easily. Apparently, this time Draco would be helping Snape, meaning, he wouldn’t be bothered. And so, he had left the dungeons with a lighter heart, thankful that he had survived another meeting with the evil-tempered man.

\--

“Uh uh, no!” Draco rebuked him and batted his hand away from his own cock. Harry scowled, but dutifully removed his hand and clawed the sheets instead. 

It was Sunday afternoon, and Draco had paid him a surprise visit, claiming that he was seeing too little of Harry, now that he was staying at Hogwarts. That had been at half past two. For the next ten minutes afterwards, all he had seen of Harry was the area around his navel. The limited visual field had been due to the fact that Draco had Harry’s cock down his throat the moment the door had banged shut behind him.

Now it was close to three and, during the last fifteen minutes, Draco was able to see as much as he wanted of Harry, having stripped him out of his clothes and laid him out on the mattress. He had prepared him hastily and then pulled him towards the edge of the bed, making sure that his arse was flush with the brink. With a practised wave of his wand, the bed was raised a bit until it had the perfect height for Draco to stand in front of it and fuck Harry comfortably.

Harry wasn’t complaining. Not really. But in that position, his poor cock got no friction. Not from a mattress or whatever surface he might by lying on, and not from Draco’s body above him. He would like to try and increase the tension inside his lower body by wrapping his legs around Draco. Unfortunately, even that was made impossible, since his legs were hooked over Draco’s arms. All he could do was clamp down on Draco inside him and pray that the bastard intended to help him out sometime soon – since he obviously wasn’t allowed to do anything himself.

Draco grunted and changed the angle, making Harry shudder with pleasure and moan loudly. He raised his arms above his head, reaching for a pillow with both hands and squeezing it to death. 

“Harry…”

He opened his eyes and looked up at Draco’s flushed and sweaty face.

“Want to try another position?”

“Yes!” Harry blurted before he could stop himself. Apart from the lack of stimulation of his cock, he liked where he was at the moment, but trying something different couldn’t hurt.

Draco pulled out carefully and nudged Harry’s side, encouraging him to make room for him on the bed. Lying down in the middle of the mattress, he propped himself up on a few pillows, spreading his legs at the same time.

“Come here. With your back to me…” Draco guided Harry into a kneeling position, his backside hovering over Draco’s cock. “Now lower yourself onto me. Hmm…” he purred. “Just like that...”

Harry groaned. In this position, his prostate was rubbed mercilessly and gravity helped him take Draco deeper and deeper with each thrust. Logically, he knew that it wasn’t possible, but it sure felt that way.

Draco didn’t touch him. Unlike most of the times, when he was taking care of Harry, now he let him do all the work. While, at the beginning, it felt strange and Harry felt slightly awkward, he soon relished the noises Draco made while he was fucking himself on his cock. He was doing that. He made Draco feel good with his body.

“You have no idea how hot it looks, watching myself slide into you,” Draco rasped and, finally, Harry understood why he had been putting himself halfway upright instead of lying down completely.

Making sure to wiggle his bum on each movement to give Draco an even better show, Harry reached for his cock. This time, he wasn’t stopped. He tugged and pulled on himself, struggling to keep in time with the up and down moves.

Suddenly, Draco’s hands were on his hips, helping to keep him steady and moving. The sound level in the room increased and soon both of them were coming. 

Panting, Harry let go of his oversensitive cock and lifted himself, feeling Draco’s dick slip out of him, followed by a slow trickle of sperm. Flopping onto his back instantly, he only barely missed Draco.

“Hey! What’s wrong with you? It can’t have been that tiring. You’ve only been on top for five minutes, if at all,” Draco said, teasing.

Harry looked at him, wondering if he should tell him the truth. This had been the best sex they had in a long time and he didn’t want to ruin it afterwards. 

“Harry?” Draco’s grin vanished and concern crept onto his features.

“I thought it might be a good idea to not let all of it run out of me so fast…” he muttered under his breath.

To Draco’s credit, he didn’t make fun of Harry, asking if he wanted to raise his legs into the air or offering to stuff some pillows underneath his hips. He simply nodded and cast a Scouring Charm on Harry.

“Thank you.”

“Hmm. You’re welcome.” Draco paused. “Um, you are aware that the Furattacti are not like other men in that regard? I’m not certain how it’s works in detail, but we’re not only fertile by…coming inside our partners.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “You’re not?”

“Not just that way. Remember how Snape told us that you might become pregnant when I fuck you…but that it’s not one hundred percent safe the other way around?”

Thinking hard for a moment, Harry then conceded that it might be possible that he had heard that before.

“I am quite certain. Like I said, I’m not sure how else it would even be possible, but maybe it’s got something to do with touch?” Draco wondered. “On the other hand I doubt that it’s that easy. During that incident with Neville, I lost him his magic but he hasn’t given birth to a child so far. Maybe, that is where the intent comes in?”

“What do you mean?”

“Either that I’ve got a choice whether I want to impregnate someone or I have to have sex with that person…even it it’s not culminating in intercourse.”

Harry’s face fell. “So you don’t want me to become pregnant?” He gulped. Please don’t let that be what Draco was trying to convey, he prayed.

“Are you insane?” Draco all but yelled at him, looking furious. “Of course that’s not what I meant!”

“Sorry…”

“Oh for… Listen, I want to be a father. And I want it to be your child as well. So, now you tell me what you think I was talking about!”

Harry regretted ever having said anything. He hadn’t wanted to hurt Draco’s feelings, it was more his own insecurities speaking. Rationally, he knew that Draco didn’t regret being with him, but every time he mentioned things like that, Harry was led to wonder.

Draco shook his head, looking terribly disappointed. Harry felt his heart constrict at the sight. They had just had a wonderful afternoon together, and then he had to go and ruin the mood like that. Rolling to his side, he reached out and ran his fingers down Draco’s chest. He wanted to apologize, but figured that Draco wouldn’t be in a forgiving mood.

“That’s so fucked up, isn’t it?” Draco asked, laying his hand over Harry’s and stilling its movement. “Most of the time we’re forcing ourselves to have sex. And, when we happen to make it work one time, we’re messing it up afterwards.”

“You didn’t. I did.”

“Stop flagellating yourself!” Draco insisted, before he continued in a gentler tone, “You’re not the only one asking yourself what’s wrong with your body. I’ve been told for years now that I should be able to challenge the Weasleys regarding their number of offspring. Well, so far it doesn’t look very promising. Who says it’s you? You told me that the Healer didn’t find anything wrong with you. I’ve never been to a Healer because I’m too bloody scared of what they would find. I don’t have your courage and determination...”

“But…” Harry stopped himself. He didn’t know what to say. Draco thought he might be the origin of their problem. Certainly, that wasn’t true.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Draco muttered. “It’s my fault. I should have seen a Healer long ago. At the latest, when you told me that you’re healthy. I’m sorry, Harry.”

\--

And so, what had started as a wonderful afternoon had ended in frustration. Harry had tried to convince Draco that it was impossible that he was the cause, considering all they knew about the Furattacti. But Draco’s opinion couldn’t be swayed and he left looking dejected and miserable. Harry thought he knew how he felt as he wasn’t any better.

That had been almost a week ago. It was now Saturday night, and Harry was sitting on the sofa in his room, utterly bored. There were no tests to mark and, by now, he was up-to-date with his lesson plans. Normally, he would have left the castle on Friday night, headed for his own place for one or two nights or staying with Draco for the weekend. 

This time, though, he wasn’t particularly keen on seeing his boyfriend again and he also wasn’t in the mood to return home. Winky would be pleased to welcome him back, but remaining at Hogwarts had sounded more appealing and so he had stayed. He was sure that the other inhabitants of the castle were wondering about his presence, though no one had said anything to him. Most likely, they were talking behind his back.

Since it was hours before his usual bedtime, Harry walked to the kitchen, asking the house-elves for a cup of tea instead of ordering it. He could use the exercise, Harry decided, patting his stomach. He wasn’t becoming fat per se, nothing wobbled, but his clothes seemed to fit tighter. Furthermore, his ankles must be somewhat swollen as he had noticed, that, suddenly, his socks were cutting into his flesh.

“A bit restless, are we?” a voice drawled behind his back. Harry jumped and swivelled around.

“Severus. Good evening…” His heart was still pounding madly in his chest and he found it difficult to speak without a waver in his voice betraying his shock.

“Good evening,” Severus replied, looking him over. “Where are you headed?”

Since he was two feet away from the entrance to the kitchen with his hand raised to tickle the pear, Harry thought that question was rather superfluous. But, he forced himself to answer politely, since he didn’t want to alienate the man. It had taken a few weeks until he had thawed enough to allow Harry to address him by his first name and, to be honest, he had been immensely proud that day.

“I’m about to get some tea.”

Severus clucked his tongue. “Hmm… You might want to make sure that you do not overindulge with sugar and milk.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?” he stuttered. What was that git talking about? It was none of his business what Harry ate or drank.

“Maybe you had a little too much of both lately?” Severus suggested calmly. He didn’t seem to care that he was insulting his colleague with his contemptuous comments.

Sputtering, Harry turned on his heels and shouldered past the older man. He would return to his quarters and order his tea from there. With a plate of biscuits to the side and whatever else he could think of.

“Harry… Harry!” Severus called after him and, from the sound his feet made on the stone floor, was quickly catching up. Soon, a hand appeared on his shoulder and Harry came to a stop, albeit rather unwillingly.

“What? Would you like to pay me more compliments?” He asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of his tone. It was hard enough that he hadn’t heard anything from Draco for days and he felt like a failure because of that. If he hadn’t been so stupid… But be that as it may, he certainly didn’t need to be told from that ugly bastard that he was getting fat.

“Care to accompany me to my quarters? You will get the tea you wanted and I have got one or two things to say to you. So, unless you do not have any pressing plans, I would be grateful if you agreed.” Severus wasn’t begging but he wasn’t employing his commanding tone, either. Could it be that Severus was actually inviting him, Harry, for tea? 

Afterwards, Harry couldn’t say why he had agreed, but before he knew it, he was seated in a comfortable armchair, balancing a cup of deliciously smelling tea on his knee. As he had no idea what to say, he sipped the hot beverage and waited for Severus to start his lecture. For he was sure that was what he had been talking about when he mentioned that he had something to say.

The man must have decided to drive Harry insane. Even after one round of tea, he hadn’t launched into whatever he wanted to talk about and was making idle chitchat. Severus! That was just wrong.

Pouring them both more tea, Severus set his cup aside and leaned forwards in his chair. Harry braced himself for the worst and plastered a, what he hoped, look of rapt attention on his face.

“Harry, I asked you here because of two things. Firstly, I know it is none of my business, but I thought you should be aware that Draco’s not avoiding you because he is angry about anything you think you did. He is afraid you are going to either kick him out or drag him to the nearest Healer. I understand that he already alluded to his reluctance in that regard?”

Harry shook his head disbelievingly. Wasn’t it enough that Severus knew about their general difficulties? Did he really need to be further involved? What in blazes had Draco been thinking?

“Before you start saying what I can see you are thinking, please understand that I am hardly interested in your opinion. I am merely telling you what I know, hoping to make you see that you are not the only one having a hard time with the situation,” Severus said sternly. “I would not have said anything, but, since it is starting to affect your habits, I found it necessary to let you know.”

Unfortunately, Harry felt anything but grateful for his consideration and it must have shown on his face.

“Apparently, you don’t want to know. That is too bad, because I am not interested in your wishes,” Severus repeated, still in this grating, half-stern, half-calm tone. For a moment, Harry wished he was a child again and could pout and rage to his heart’s content without making a complete fool of himself.

“Moving on.” That git was totally unimpressed by Harry glaring daggers at him. “The other thing I wanted to address is the obvious oedema you are displaying. – Do not look at me like that. Water retention, Harry. Basically, your face is rather puffy.”

Even more compliments. He had to be careful or Harry would actually blush if he didn’t stop them coming soon. 

“You’re concerned. That’s sweet, but not necessary.”

“Let me be the judge of that.” Severus sighed. “If you were female and Muggle, I would suggest spending a few quid on a pregnancy test. But, as it is, we do not have something like that in the wizarding world, I doubt you even know what I am talking about and, last but not least, it is likely it would not show the correct result in your case.”

Harry’s mind had stopped computing when Severus had mentioned something called a pregnancy test. What was he getting at? Did he think Harry was pregnant? Certainly that couldn’t be true. Maybe he was trying to raise false hopes in him. But, the times when Severus hurt him deliberately, were long gone, weren’t they?

He gulped.

“Um…”

Severus eyes’ softened. “You really did not suspect anything, did you? I am sorry, Harry.” He got up and came to stand in front of Harry’s seat. “Come on; let us get you to Pomfrey.”

“Uh… How will she know if I’m…if I…” Harry remained seated. He wasn’t ready for this. That he had waited for all eternity for that moment meant nothing. He wasn’t ready!

“There are a few spells and, considering the result, it will be safe to say whether I am right or wrong.” Severus motioned for him to get up, going so far as to hold out his hand to him.

Harry couldn’t make himself get up. It just wasn’t possible. Eventually, he asked sheepishly, “Do you know how to perform the necessary spells?”

In a way, it was laughable. Five minutes ago, he had been ready to hex that man into the middle of next week, and now, he was asking for his help. If he hadn’t been so paralyzed, he’d shake his head at himself.

Severus took his time to answer, and when he did, he didn’t look convinced. 

“I do. But I still think that seeing Pomfrey would be the right thing to do in your situation.”

“Will she be able to say if…everything’s all right?”

“More or less. It is not like we do two spells and know everything for certain. Embryos that age are difficult to evaluate. Most likely, she is going to be able to determine whether you are pregnant or not. The rest remains to be seen.”

Harry stared into his lap, unable to look at Severus and watch him rolling his eyes. “Please?”

To his surprise, the older man didn’t say anything derogatory, he muttered what had to be three or four different spells and then Harry heard him chuckling. Chuckling! Terrified but also dying of curiosity, Harry raised his head, nervously biting his lower lip.

There, about a foot in front of his stomach, something was hovering. The hologram was hard to discern and roughly the size of a pea. But since he had never known that something like that was possible, he allowed himself the luxury of hope.

“Is that…?”

“Yes,” Severus declared gravely, “that is your child.”

\--

Harry had only a vague idea of what happened afterwards. He liked to think that he hadn’t broken down and cried happy tears into Severus’ hideous black robes, but he was afraid that was nothing but wishful thinking. Thankfully, Severus had been completely out of his depth and would tell no living soul about it. Now that he thought about it, Harry was fairly certain that included ghosts and portraits. He hoped.

Taking a deep breath, Harry threw a handful of Floo powder into the flames and, when they turned green, he called out Draco’s address and stepped into the hearth. He wanted to break the good news face to face. A simple letter or even a conversation via the Floo wouldn’t do.

As he struggled to exit the fire without the usual, disgraceful stumbling, Harry heard Draco give a startled yelp.

“Harry!”

“Hi…” Harry smiled cautiously. Only now did he remember that they weren’t on speaking terms at the moment ,and that he should have thought it over before he came here unannounced and in the middle of the night.

“Is something wrong?” Draco asked, also aiming to keep his tone neutral and failing thoroughly.

“I’ve got something to tell you. Is this a bad time; do you have a few minutes?” Harry asked. Then, he almost instantly berated himself for talking that way with Draco. He sounded like he would speak with his accountant, not with his lover. And that was the moment he had been looking forward to for years. Shouldn’t it be more…romantic? Intimate? Perfect?

“Um, of course…” Draco gestured towards the sofa and, when Harry had chosen a seat, sat down beside him. At least, Harry told himself, he wasn’t avoiding him.

“Well, what happened?”

“I had a conversation with Severus earlier tonight,” Harry began, only for Draco to interrupt him.

“You’re not here to complain about him, are you?” he asked wearily. He had told Harry, repeatedly, how much he hated having them badmouth each other, so Harry forgave him the question.

He shook his head. “No, I’m not. He was actually pretty helpful.”

“Oh?” Now, Draco was intrigued.

“Yes. Well, it started with a few comments regarding my weight gain.” Harry paused to wait if Draco had anything to say about that. He didn’t.

“But then he hinted that he knew what was wrong with me and told me that he wanted me to see Pomfrey.” Harry held up a hand to forestall any interruption. “Wait, I’m getting to that. Okay? – Apparently, he had been right and soon we saw what he had expected. Here…” Harry reached inside his pocket and produced a piece of parchment. “Say this incantation and you’ll see what I’m talking about. Don’t worry, you won’t hurt me.”

Draco skimmed the spell Severus had written down and, when he looked up again, his eyes were shining. “Is this…?”

Of course, Harry rebuked himself, he should have remembered that Draco’s Latin was light-years superior to his own. It was only natural that he had picked up on what the spell was supposed to do. That was a pity; he had hoped to surprise him with the hologram.

Fortunately, Draco didn’t seem to mind, if his expression was anything to go by. Dutifully, he performed the spell and then they waited. For a brief moment, Harry was worried that he had dreamed the talk with Severus and there would be nothing to be seen.

Only when he heard Draco gasp did he dare to take a look. And there it was. Their child!

Draco stepped closer to get a better look, crouching down in front of the lentil-like hologram.

“Gods, it’s so tiny!” he exclaimed, full of wonder.

“It is, isn’t it?” Harry agreed. It was too early to see anything else, like beginning limbs or something like that, but, for now, he was content with the knowledge that it was there.

“How old is it?” Draco asked. “Could Severus tell?”

“Not definitely. He reckoned the conception was about three weeks ago. He said that, when it’s a bit bigger, it’d be easier to measure it and gauge its age.”

“Oh… So it wasn’t that Sunday afternoon, was it?”

Harry grinned. “No, it wasn’t. But I wondered the same.”

“You did? Now I feel less stupid.”

“Imagine how I felt. Severus was laughing his arse off when I mentioned it,” Harry said bitterly. That had been one of the less intelligent comments he had made in the Potions master’s presence. Of course, that was only his opinion. In all likeliness, the older man was able to list dozens of more examples for Harry’s stupidity without breaking into a sweat.

Draco chuckled. “How much longer until it’s going to start developing arms and legs?”

“Soon. And I was told that we will be able to see the heartbeat within a week or two,” Harry told him, proud that he was able to share his newfound knowledge.

Cancelling the spell, Draco reached for Harry’s hands and pulled him to his feet. “You are awesome and I love you so very much. And, because I know you: don’t think it’s only because of the baby. I would have loved you no less without it, okay? I missed you!”

“I love you, too. And it’s also not only because of your sperm,” Harry answered in kind. He threw his arms around Draco’s neck and kissed him on the lips. “And you have no idea how much I missed you!”

It was true. And if he was honest, Harry had had no idea himself. Only now that he was complete once more, was he able to admit how miserable he had been before.

\--

Early the next morning, Draco woke Harry. He didn’t yell from the bathroom and he didn’t shake him awake roughly. The first thing Harry realized were gentle fingers running down his spine.

“Morning,” he muttered, grateful that the curtains were still closed and now harsh light was blinding him as he opened his eyes.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Draco greeted him cheerfully, making room for Harry so he could stretch.

“How late is it?” Harry asked. Not that he was really interested. Today was the first day since he had started teaching, when he didn’t particularly care whether he was in his classroom in time.

“Early enough,” Draco reassured him. “You’ll have time for a shower and breakfast, and then you’ll be at Hogwarts in time to tell McGonagall, that you won’t be able to teach classes involving practical exercises any longer.”

Harry frowned. What was he talking about?

“Certainly you didn’t plan to risk your and the baby’s health by being in the same room with students who are practising spells?” Draco asked, incredulously.

“Oh…”

“Harry, please. You must have thought about that before,” the blond pleaded.

“Not really…”

“Okay. Then I’m telling you now, that, as a pregnant person, you’re not allowed to go on like you did before, at least not where your job is concerned. It’s the same with Potions. Lecturing theory is all right, but brewing, even supervising students, is not. Actually, one does have to wonder why Severus didn’t mention anything.”

“Well, he said – grumbled – something along the lines that he couldn’t wait to work even more for the same pay…” Harry admitted. He hadn’t paid attention to that comment because he didn’t want to appear clueless once more. But, now that Draco mentioned the consequences of his condition, it seemed likely that Severus had already resigned himself to take on half of Harry’s lessons.

“Good,” Draco said, nodding and showing no sign of pity for Severus. “That means you won’t let McGonagall down.”

Harry wasn’t just as optimistic. “Still, theoretically, half a teaching position will be vacant,” he argued, already feeling bad for her. She had been so relieved and thankful when he had agreed to help her out. And now, she was back where she had been just a few short months earlier. It hardly seemed fair.

Draco sniffed. “If, against my better knowledge, Severus proves unable to cope, I can always come back for a few hours a week and either teach a few lessons or take on the brewing for the hospital wing. But I don’t think it will be necessary.”

“Aw,” Harry cooed. “You’re already starting to feel more responsible for your fellow human beings. You’ll be a great dad.”

Draco rolled his eyes but Harry thought that, underneath his exaggerated annoyance, the pride he took in Harry’s words was clearly visible.

Smiling to himself, Harry was now almost looking forward to sharing the news with his current employer. They had been waiting so long for that moment, and now that it had finally come, it felt like a dream. Telling other people about his pregnancy would hopefully help to make it seem real.

\--

Like Draco had predicted, Severus hadn’t been happy about the additional workload, but he had agreed to do it, declining Draco’s offer to help. Harry, for his part, was making bets with himself how long it would take him to cave…or the Headmistress to force some help upon him when the complaints of students and parents increased in numbers. A stressed Severus tended to be more snappish and short-tempered than he usually was.

On the one hand, Harry was grateful that he and the unborn child were safe. Also, to be honest, he had started to feel tired all the time, so, having only half of the classes left to teach was a welcome reprieve. But, on the other hand, he had found that he was becoming a bit bored the more time passed by. Before, he would have been happy about the free time and spent it either helping Draco (which he now no longer was allowed to do) or doing other things with Draco.

Sadly, that wasn’t the only thing that had changed. The moment he had found out about the pregnancy, Draco had stopped having sex with Harry, claiming that he didn’t want to harm the baby. At first, Harry thought Draco was merely being stupid, but then they had a revealing conversation that made Harry see his point.

“Look, I’d really like to fuck you, never doubt that. But I don’t know what that will mean for the baby. I don’t know for certain whether Furattacti harm their own children in any way. If they do, I have no idea when it’s supposed to start…and what if it’s already dangerous for the baby while it’s still inside you?”

“Oh Merlin…” Harry was shocked. While he knew that Draco had to be careful around beings that didn’t take the potion to keep them safe, he had never imagined that the same would go for their child. “So, the child will have to take the potion as soon as it’s born? Starting right after the birth?”

“Unfortunately, that’s not possible,” Draco said dejectedly.

“It’s not?” Harry blinked. What was that supposed to mean?

“Well, that’s only partly correct. If it’s female, it might be able to take the potion. I’m not certain, but that should be something Severus would be able to find out. But, if it’s male, we won’t know if he’s a Furattactus himself until he comes into his inheritance…or not. And if he is one, taking the potion would be dangerous for him.”

Draco had given his little speech in a dispassionate tone and Harry was waiting for the worst yet to come. Something was niggling in the back of his mind, as if he should already know what to expect.

“The night of my inheritance was the first time my father hugged me without wearing his gloves and without giving a damn to whether his cheek was pressed against my head.”

\--

Since Draco had dropped that bombshell the other day, Harry was constantly thinking of a way to change the sad fate of their child. Unfortunately, so far, he hadn’t come up with something useful.

All his hopes were now relying on Hermione. Harry recalled many times where the bright witch had been the only one to come up with a solution in a dire situation. So he had Floo-called her. Instead of her, it had been Ron who answered, and he had invited him for dinner the very same day. Luckily, Harry knew that Draco was busy that night and, therefore, wouldn’t question why Harry wanted to go there on his own.

After the meal, they retreated to the sitting room and Ron, once again, tried to offer Harry a glass of wine. During dinner, he had already declined, using an excuse. Now, he wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t want to lie to them but it felt wrong informing his friends when Draco wasn’t there with him.

Then he noted something curious.

“’Mione? No wine for you tonight?”

“Um…” Since she usually was an eloquent person, that pause was very telling. Ron’s goofy grin only confirmed Harry’s suspicions.

“Oh, wow! That’s wonderful! Since when do you know? How far along are you?” Harry got up and went to kiss Hermione on the cheek and clapping Ron on the back. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you.” Hermione blushed. “It’s still very recent and, so far, we haven’t told many people. Only our parents know.”

“You don’t have to apologize!” Harry protested, his bad conscience intensifying immensely. 

“See, I told you he wouldn’t be mad,” Ron said triumphantly. “It’s been six weeks. Last month, we went away on a short trip to Paris and, apparently, it brought us luck.”

Harry smiled. “Great. I’m so happy for you guys!”

Hermione seemed to doubt his sincerity. “Are you okay with it? We thought hearing about it might be…hard for you.” 

Ron gestured with his hands, probably trying to stop her. And when she had finished, he merely shook his head in defeat, unable to meet Harry’s gaze.

Oh Gods. Harry wanted to smack his head against the wall or whatever surface offered its services. Despite his best efforts, his friends, of course, had noted how jealous he had been of Ginny and were now concerned that he was green with envy. Harry sighed.

“No, I think it’s wonderful. Honestly. You two have been together for so long, and you will be great parents. Your child is lucky to have chosen you to bring it into the world.”

Harry hadn’t been lying. Of course, being pregnant himself helped feeling happiness for other couples, but he was quite certain that he would be overjoyed even if he weren’t in the same situation.

Both of his friends looked relieved. This time, though, Ron had the upper hand, and Hermione swallowed any comment she had been about to make. Harry was distinctly grateful.

“Well, since Harry’s not feeling like drinking tonight and we’ve already established that Hermione can’t, how about some tea?” Ron asked. “Neville gave us a few samples, asking for our opinion. Maybe we could try a few of them and compare notes?”

Harry shrugged. “Sure. I’m not certain my opinion will be of help, as, for me, tea tastes either good or bad, but I’m willing to give it a try.”

“Good or bad is enough,” Ron reassured him. “Neville said he didn’t need long lists of reasons, he just wants a survey of what is generally liked and what not.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I am. You want anything special?” Ron asked his wife. Harry assumed they had already taken a closer look at the stash and decided which ones sounded good to them.

When she shook her head, Ron went to get the tea. Since Hermione hadn’t changed her views on house-elves, they had to do everything themselves. There were many household charms to make one’s life easier, but some things had to be done by hand. Preparing a decent tea was one of them, as Harry had learned by watching Severus.

As soon as Ron had left the room, Hermione scrutinized Harry.

“What?”

“That’s what I’d like to know. Ron said you were looking for me specifically?”

“Oh, that.”

“Yes, that.”

Harry nodded slowly. Now that he knew about Hermione’s pregnancy, he was wondering if she was the right person to ask for help. Most likely, she wouldn’t be able to answer him spontaneously. For her, it meant she would put her life on hold and research as long as it would take her to find what she considered to be a satisfactory amount of information. He didn’t want to put that kind of stress on her. Not to mention that he had no idea how she was holding up health wise. 

She nodded at him encouragingly, prompting him to start talking already.

“Okay… Draco mentioned that, if I were pregnant, he wouldn’t be able to have sex with me any longer. He said it might harm the child. – No, please… He also told me that his father never touched him until he came into his inheritance. According to Draco, giving potential Furattacti a potion to keep them safe from the touch is never done. He didn’t go into detail, but, apparently, it would harm the future Furattacti.” Harry finished, his voice having gone quieter and quieter with each word. It still hurt to think about their future child, being completely devoid of one parent’s touch. No wonder Draco and Mr Malfoy’s relationship was rather cool. They hadn’t been able to be close for most of Draco’s life and it showed in their every interaction.

Hermione’s eyes were huge. “The poor children! Is he sure? It’s not just because Malfoy is…acting distant in general and wasn’t interested…?” She sounded almost hopeful.

“No! No. The way Draco was talking, his father must have made a beeline for him the second he deemed it safe.”

“Fuck.”

Harry goggled. “Hermione?”

“Well, I’m right, am I not?”

“Hmm.”

She thought for a moment. “Let’s see if I understand this correctly: Having a daughter would be no issue?”

“Probably not. Draco couldn’t say, but assumed that Severus would be able to find it out. I don’t know if it would help talking to his parents…” Harry trailed off. That would be about the last thing he wanted to do.

“You know,” she said pensively, “I wonder if that is the reason that Furattacti always impregnate their partners and don’t carry the children themselves. If they can even hurt unborn children by having sex with their carrier, one has to wonder if it would be any different if the foetus was growing inside of them. But, doesn’t the potion the carrier ingests harm the unborn child?”

“So you believe he’s right?” Harry asked, afraid of her answer.

“You don’t?”

“Fuck.”

“Absolutely…”

They shared a weak grin, but ended the conversation as Ron came back, a tray floating in front of him.

\--

“Harry!” Hermione’s voice, coming out of the fireplace, interrupted his nap. He was still feeling tired all the time and always grateful, when he had the time to indulge in a little nap during the afternoon. He had started to correct Potions essays for Severus, of course only the lower years and after the older man had tested his work thoroughly. Harry thought it was only fair, considering that Severus was doing half of his work. But it also meant that his free time was more restricted than it had been right after he had learned about the pregnancy.

“Hmm?” he mumbled, struggling to wake up to complete alertness.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized immediately. “Do you want me to call back later?”

“No, that’s fine,” Harry said, yawning. “Just give me a moment.”

Hermione’s head disappeared and shortly after, she stepped out of the hearth. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Harry had managed to disentangle his legs from the throw and got up to greet her. Gesturing her towards an armchair, he sank back onto the sofa. “Would you like some tea or juice? Anything else?”

“No, thank you.” Hermione shook her head. She rummaged inside the pockets of her robe and pulled out an impressive roll of parchment, thrusting it into Harry’s hand. “Here!”

“Uh…”

“You had questions. I have answers,” she announced proudly.

“Merlin… That’s certainly a lot…” Harry unrolled it and scanned the first inches. “Everything is about pregnancies when one parent is a Furattactus?” He couldn’t believe his luck. Well, to be honest, he had expected Hermione to come up with something, but certainly not a dissertation. Because that’s what it was.

“Thank you!” he blurted, still overwhelmed. “It must have taken you ages to finish this…”

“Ah, no… It wasn’t so bad,” Hermione waved off his concern. “But I have to say, your colleague is getting stranger over the years.”

“Huh?” Harry had no idea whom she might have been referring to.

“Snape.”

Harry gulped. “You went to see Snape?”

She nodded. “Well, yes. I figured it was all right. Wasn’t it? Then I’m sorry. Did I get this wrong? I thought he knew about your and Draco’s plans?”

“He does…”

“What’s the problem then? He wasn’t impolite, if you were worried about me. And he didn’t kick me out or anything. He just acted weird when I told him you were curious because of what Draco said and wanted to be prepared. And, when I asked him if I chose a bad time since he seemed stressed, he muttered something about working for two, but for the pay of one. I thought that was strange, since I had never heard him complain about his workload before and, anyways, it can’t have changed that much. He’s been teaching the same subject for decades, surely he’s used to it by now?”

“Yes, strange,” Harry agreed half-heartedly. One of these days, he really needed to grab Draco and pay his friends a visit.

“But apart from his behaviour,” Hermione continued, “he was really helpful. He must have put in some research himself, because he was able to show me a very interesting text. According to the author, the Furattacti don’t impregnate their partners the ‘normal’ way.”

“They don’t?” Harry interrupted, surprised. Then what the blazes was he carrying inside him? He was pregnant, he knew that for certain!

“Unfortunately, it wasn’t explained how that comes to be. Magic, I suppose. But apparently, a Furattactus somehow carries a fertilized egg and, one way or another, transfers it to his partner’s body. Therefore, initially, the child only carries the genetic information of its father. But later, the longer it grows inside the ‘mother’, half of it is replaced. In the end, you have a perfect mix of both parents.”

At a loss for words, Harry could only stare at her dumbly. 

“It makes sense, don’t you think?” Hermione sounded excited. She snatched the parchment out of Harry’s limp fingers and frantically searched for something particular.

“It does?”

“Yes… Here!” Pointing at a large paragraph, which she skimmed quickly, she then summarized the content for Harry. “This is actually why they are able to impregnate anyone. The Furattactus’ body does all the work in the beginning. The nidation process is the first thing happening outside the control of the creature.” She paused for breath. “But that’s great, because, since the Healer found nothing wrong with you, you’ve got every chance to become pregnant sooner or later!”

Well, rather sooner than later, Harry thought wryly, but kept that thought to himself.

“You’re also one of the lucky ones. If you weren’t able to stand Draco’s touch without help, he would have to avoid any physical contact. Well, as long as the gender of the baby is unknown. If it was a girl, you could resume taking the potion as soon as it was confirmed. With a boy, you’d have to wait until after the birth.”

Ah. That answered his earlier question. Then, another thought occurred to him. “Are you saying that Draco’s parents weren’t allowed to touch for almost a year?”

Hermione nodded. “Sad, isn’t it?” Subconsciously, her hand went to her stomach, caressing the nonexistent bulge. “Sometimes, I wish I knew more about people’s background when I meet them for the first time. It would make it easier to assess their character. From what I learned recently and considering what you told me, I think it’s no wonder that Draco’s been acting like a cold, arrogant bastard for years. It must be hard to grow up like that…” She sighed.

Harry felt like crying. What if their baby was a boy and he had to endure the same? What if Draco really wasn’t able to touch the poor child until it was grown?

“Harry, don’t look at me like that. I’m sure we’re going to find a suitable solution for everyone. There _will_ be a way. I promise!” she said earnestly.

“How?”

“Just because that one author says Furattacti harm their own children, doesn’t necessarily mean it is true, does it? What about Draco and his mother? Does she need to be careful now that he is one? Or wait…that might be difficult to answer since she’s taking the potion anyway.” Hermione huffed. 

“No.”

“No? What so you mean: no?”

“As far as I know, she’s not taking it,” Harry said, scratching his head. 

Hermione looked flustered, but to her credit, she didn’t ask for details. Harry thought that her respect for other people’s privacy was heroic. 

“Oh, okay. Well, then it might be worth asking Draco how he’s acting around her? Maybe he’s treating her normally and there is a difference between the general public and blood kin. That would mean the children are also safe and people are just acting on hearsay and being overprotective. It would certainly go with the image I have of the Malfoys. Anything to protect the precious heir! They’d rather have the child suffer before potentially endangering his magical prowess.” Hermione stopped there, but Harry could see what she was thinking of that method.

He could understand where she was coming from, but he also wondered if he would risk his own child’s future like that. When he had no idea that magic existed, he hadn’t missed anything. But now that he did, Harry knew that he didn’t want to miss it. And a child, growing up in a magical household, would certainly feel dreadful if he lost his own magical abilities due to an experiment his parents had deemed safe.

“You don’t think so,” Hermione stated. “Okay, I might look at it too rationally. Obviously, it’s different if it’s your own child. But I still think there has to be a solution, and I also think that we’re going to find it. I’m not stupid, Snape’s not stupid. And both of us really want to help. I also strongly recommend that you seek a conversation with your in-laws. Or, send Draco to investigate. I say this despite the misgivings you rightfully have. They might have some clues for us we would be missing otherwise.”

Rubbing his temples, Harry sighed. “I will mention it to Draco,” he said and then pointed to her essay. “Is this your copy or can I keep it?”

“You can keep it, of course. I made a few copies once it was done. It’s a summary of everything we know so far. You could also take it with you when go see Healer Jones again,” she suggested. 

“I would. If he knew about Draco being a Furattactus,” Harry reminded her.

“Ah, yes. There’s that.” Hermione wrinkled her nose. Then she nodded determinedly and Harry knew she had taken on his unspoken challenge.

\--


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things:
> 
> As the fic gets closer to the end, the amount of SPaG issues will increase. I am sorry for that, but there really was no time to have someone look it over back when it was written and right now I do not know anyone willing tackle this monster. 
> 
> Warning for this chapter (=spoiler, but I feel that I have to mention it nonetheless): Miscarriage.

The following weeks were busy with the preparations for Neville and Hannah’s wedding and Harry didn’t find the time to meet with Hermione in private. Of course they saw each other a lot, but there were always many people around, and so they had postponed their talk a few times already.

Well, Harry was still interested in what she would have found out, but he had decided that, since he wasn’t bothered by Draco’s touch, the same thing would go for his child. As long as it was inside him, his magic would certainly keep it safe from this minor disturbance and later on, they’d find a way. Draco would get a chance to be a real daddy, and their child would never have to doubt his feelings for him or her. Harry would make sure of that. As soon as he had made his decision, Harry started to feel better about everything, no matter how unrealistic it might sound to other people.

It was amazing what had to be planned and prepared before the great day. Especially, since they initially had wanted to marry about half a year ago, in late summer. But in the end, Neville’s prediction had proved to be right. The big order, a lavish wedding, had taken too much of his time to allow them to concentrate on themselves. There had been a few tears, but Hannah was a shop owner by heart and knew that business came first. When it had been raining cats and dogs on their previous wedding date, Harry had brought them a nice bottle of wine and wished them a nice evening. Neville later told him that it had been put to good use.

Tonight was the night before the wedding. Both Hannah and Neville had explicitly begged their friends not to organize them anything resembling a stag night. Instead, they had asked for a quiet get-together and Harry and Susan had only been too happy to fulfil their wish.

Susan, probably because being a young mother didn’t make her feel like being out all hours of the night, running around and drinking, and smiling for the photographers the next day. And Harry had been worried how he would be able to conceal his condition and yet avoid having a glass of alcohol pressed into his hand everywhere he went.

Infinitely happier with that solution, Harry had offered to host the little party at Grimmauld Place, figuring that it was located conveniently for everybody and held enough guest rooms in case some of the visitors opted to stay the night.

“Harry, I brought Dori with me,” Draco announced as he walked into the bedroom. “Oh, stay like this?”

Harry smirked. “I don’t think our guests would appreciate it.”

“Maybe not all of them,” Draco conceded, still leering. “Okay, get dressed and come downstairs when you’re ready. When is this thing supposed to start?”

“In half an hour,” Harry said through the cloth of his t-shirt. Once he had it pulled into place, he chanced a look into the mirror and groaned. His hair had looked better before he had tousled it needlessly. “Next time, I’m going to wear a button-down shirt, I swear.”

“But I like you in those yummy tight shirts,” the blond protested in a whiny tone.

“That might be the case. But since I won’t be able to wear them for much longer anyway, I think you will learn to cope with the loss.”

“Why would you not be able to wear them any longer?”

“Uh, pregnant…?”

“But I’m sure the growing stomach will suit you wonderfully.”

“Well, not in those t-shirts. They’re going to burst,” Harry predicted, still struggling with his hair. By now, he was using the palms of both hands, desperately trying to press the stubborn strands against his head.

“Allow me.” Draco brandished his wand and after a few well-placed charms, Harry’s hair didn’t look much different but now it appeared to be wanted that way.

“You are a genius.”

Draco nodded. “I still find it hard to believe that the most powerful wizard alive is unable to deal with his hair.”

Harry snorted and pushed Draco out of their room. Walking down the stairs side by side, he asked, “What did Winky have to say when you introduced Dori?”

“Nothing.”

Harry winced. “You didn’t let her get a word in, did you?”

“I let her say hello…”

“How kind of you.” Harry quickened his pace, suddenly anxious to see how the house-elves were getting on. Winky could be awfully territorial of what she thought of as hers. Strictly speaking, the building belonged to Harry, but since she was his one and only house-elf, Winky thought it was her sole responsibility and she didn’t respond kindly to other beings intruding in her space.

“Where were they when you left them?” Harry asked when the kitchen turned out to be elf-free.

“Here.”

“Oh my… Winky!” Harry called, waiting for the familiar pop announcing the tiny elf. This time, though, she left him waiting. “Could you call Dori, please?”

Draco frowned but obeyed. “Dori!”

“Yes, Master Draco?” Dori popped her head out of the adjourning storage room.

“Where’s Winky?”

Dori violently flinched as if struck. “Dori is very sorry, Master Draco. But Winky said Master Draco is not allowed to bring Dori and make her help Winky. Then Winky disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” Harry asked. Even if Winky had fled the house, she should be able to hear his call wherever she was. Usually, she responded immediately. Except for when she’d been drinking. “Dori, did you see Winky take anything with her? A bottle perhaps?”

Dori seemed stricken. Obviously, she felt sorry for the other elf but didn’t want to lie outright to Harry, since she was aware that he was her Master’s partner.

“Okay, that’s answer enough,” he told her before turning to Draco. “Merlin, this is just what I need. Instead of waiting for our guests I’ve got to hunt down a drunk, pouting house-elf,” Harry growled. He knew Draco had wanted to help, but he wished he had been told of his plan beforehand, so there had been a chance to forewarn Winky and assign her some special tasks. Most of the time, that helped downplay the threat she saw in other helpers.

“No. It’s my fault. I’ll go,” Draco offered. He steered Harry towards a seat at the kitchen table. “Sit and look pretty. I’ll see to the rest.”

Harry was taken aback. “What am I? A puppet you can tell what to do?”

“No, you’re my pregnant lover who shouldn’t have so much to worry about all the time,” Draco said calmly. “And there’s this party tonight, not to mention the wedding tomorrow. I think it’s going to be hard enough on you without additionally having to deal with a mad elf.”

His shoulders slumping, Harry nodded. Draco wasn’t wrong per se. He was still tired all the time, but considered himself lucky. He had heard that lots of women were struggling with continuous nausea during the first trimester, and thought he’d rather spend twelve hours in bed each night without ever being well-rested. 

“Do you want me to bring her back or do you just want to know that she’s all right? And do we need another elf to help Dori?”

Harry rubbed his face. “Just check on her, I think. If she’s coming back, she’s going to make it harder on Dori.” And on him, Harry thought. “What do you want to do? Relocate all house-elves of Malfoy Manor? I’m sure your parents would be delighted.”

“Dori is my elf; she doesn’t live with my parents. And you’ve been looking forward to this party, so I’m going to make sure that it’s going to be a success. I couldn’t care less what my parents think,” Draco said firmly. “Not that they would miss one of their elves.”

A knock on the door made Harry forget what he wanted to say and as he went to let in the first guests, he decided that it was probably for the better. He distinctly remembered a not so friendly comment about people amassing house-elves like others collected stamps.

“Hello, Harry!” Ron and Hermione greeted him in unison. “Where’s Draco?”

“Hi, you two,” Harry smiled and gestured them inside. Obviously, Draco had already disappeared through the Floo. “Draco’s trying to sort a little problem that came up suddenly. Nothing severe, though. He’ll be back shortly.”

Hermione nodded. “Can we help?”

“No, thank you. Everything’s under control.” Harry closed the door behind them, and ushered them towards the sitting room.

“Oh? Are we the first ones to arrive?” Ron asked when they entered the empty room.

“Like always, your wife’s overly punctual,” Harry commented, knowing that it had most likely been Hermione who hurried him along. Ron would probably think about getting up from the sofa now, if at all. 

When they were seated, Harry asked about their beverage choices. 

“Butterbeer, please,” Ron said before Harry had closed his mouth.

“Oh. Hard day at work?” he commiserated.

Hermione patted Ron’s arm. “He’s constantly working twelve hour shifts. Apparently, someone decided to make it extra hard on the graduates. Maybe they’re trying to find out who really wants the job and who’s only there because they had nothing better to do?”

“I don’t think so,” Ron said. “No one’s starting Auror training for fun.”

“Not for fun. But maybe because, at that time, they didn’t know what to do with their lives and thought, becoming an Auror would be a solution. You need the right marks, of course, to be able to join, but afterwards, you have years until you have to start working. And even if you should decide against it in the end, the training was never a waste of time.”

Ron shook his head. “That is what you want to think. I believe they just like to torture us and enjoy the additional free time.”

“I’m with Ron here, ‘Mione. Sorry.” Harry summoned the Butterbeer for his friend and one jug filled with orange juice and one with water for Hermione. She liked to mix it but her preferences of the concentration changed hourly, so it was next to impossible to get it right.

“Does the world consist of arseholes in your eyes?” Hermione asked and took a glass from the table, pouring the drink.

“No, it doesn’t. But there are enough of them out there to support Ron’s theory. Besides, I’ve been working there myself and it wasn’t the best time of my life,” Harry replied, winking at Ron when he caught his grateful glance.

Hermione huffed. “Must you always stick together?” But she was grinning when she asked that question.

“You know I can’t win against you otherwise.”

“Poor Ron. – Harry, I think I heard a knock.”

Harry jumped up. Winky would get the door for him, but he doubted Dori would dare greeting his guests in his stead. 

This time, the guests of honour stood on his porch, accompanied by Susan and her husband, Ernie. After them, the rest were following in quick order. Harry had barely found the newcomers seats and supplied them with drinks, when the next couple of guests were already waiting to be let in.

Dori did her best trying to juggle taking care of the cloaks, preparing the rest of the food and finishing the decorations in the dining room. Apparently, Draco had been right, and it was too much to do for one elf. Dori had even more problems, since it wasn’t her household and she wasn’t able to act on instinct like she was used to.

“Guys, I’m so sorry, but--”

Harry was interrupted mid-sentence.

“Of course we can help,” Ron said, already on his feet. Waving Hermione off, he turned to Justin, “Come on. Let’s make sure that we’re going to get fed sometime soon.”

Justin nodded. “Sure. – Padma, it’s okay. You stay with Susan and talk about babies. I…don’t have to be present for that conversation.” He stood up and almost fled out of the room. Chuckling, Ron followed him at a more sedate pace.

The Floo flared to life and Draco stepped out gracefully. Harry rushed to him. 

“And?”

“Hmm. Like you feared, she’s drunk. Thankfully, she’s not out cold and she already stopped drinking when I found her, but with a body that size, it doesn’t take much. She’s okay, Harry. Tomorrow, she’s going to apologize for about an hour and then things will be back to normal,” Draco reassured him. Looking around, he took in the number of people in the room. “I take it everyone’s arrived already? Where are Ron and…” He scanned the room again. “Justin?”

“Helping Dori. I would have done it myself, but I figured one of the hosts had to stay with the guests…”

“Everything’s fine. Neville and Hannah wanted to have an informal get-together and that is what they’re getting. I’ll be back in a moment.” Draco dashed off and Harry knew he would call another elf. Draco, for all his experience with parties, was used to them being held with the help of an army of house-elves.

\--

“Where are Ginny and Graham? I take it the child is still too small to be left alone with Molly?” Draco asked Ron when they were busy mixing cocktails. 

Harry had stumbled across a book with cocktail recipes one day, and decided it would be a great asset to have at a party. Now they were standing side by side, cutting fruits for the decoration, shaking already mixed ingredients, and arranged everything in an assortment of beautiful glasses Winky had found somewhere.

“Well, Mum offered to look after her, of course, but Ginny said she’d feel bad leaving her alone for so long. And Graham opted to stay with them. I think, his decision is less based on concern for the baby but more on the fact that he’s never been our friend…and that likely won’t ever change,” Ron said, putting a straw into the glass he had just finished.

“That’s understandable,” Harry said with no regret audible in his tone. “We don’t make it easy for him.”

Draco shrugged. “Should we?”

“Well, he’s going to be my brother-in-law one day. At least when they’re getting married, I should start making more of an effort,” Ron mused. “Hermione’s telling me all the time that he’s not able to help it if he’s a bit of a simpleton.”

“Hermione said that?” Draco asked, clearly impressed. He gently hit the metal part of the shaker against the edge of the table to remove it from the glass part. Peering inside, he nodded in satisfaction. “That’s going to be mine!”

“Yes. And I’d like to point out that I’m not thinking less of him because he’s been sorted in Slytherin. I learned to overlook character flaws like this.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “We’re so proud of you, Ron.” He surveyed the chaos, counting the drinks neatly lined up on the tray. “We’ve finished.” He put the finishing touches on the cocktail he had been making, and placed the glass beside the others.

“Isn’t this one superfluous?” Ron enquired, nodding towards the glass Harry had just set among the others. “I’d already prepared the Virgin Caipi for Hermione.”

Harry blushed. “That’s fine. This one is for me.”

“Ugh. Why would you drink this stuff when you can have…” Ron trailed off, his eyes widening comically. “Harry? Draco… Do you guys have anything to tell me?”

“Um…”

“Hmm, less ‘um’ and more ‘mum’, I’d say. Am I right or am I right?” Ron said, not voicing it like a question. “Gods, Hermione will freak out! Harry and she will become mummies together. When is your child due?”

“A few weeks before yours, I think. We’re not totally sure since we haven’t been to a Healer,” Draco said, after exchanging a look with Harry. Both of them had instantly accepted that the times of lying to their friends had been over. And why not share the good news? Everything was all right and wizarding folk didn’t believe in waiting until a certain point of time in the pregnancy to tell their family and friends. Mostly, it was couples from a mixed heritage, containing one Muggle-born or half-blood partner, who decided to wait until they had reached the fourth month.

Seeing it that way, there never had been a reason to keep it to themselves. The right moment had just never presented itself, but now that they were both present, they took the chance.

“You haven’t seen a Healer? But you do know for certain that you’re pregnant?” Ron asked, looking confused. “I’m sorry, mate, but since you’re not menstruating, how do you know? – No, wait! Don’t tell me now. Let’s join the others so you don’t have to tell everything twice. I assume no one else knows so far?”

Well, Draco and him and Severus. But Harry didn’t think that that was something he wanted to tell Ron. Unlike him, his friend hadn’t made peace with their Potions master.

“Uh, not really, no,” Harry said evasively.

Thankfully, Ron accepted it and smirked. “I can’t wait to see their faces. Well, I guess I looked pretty stupid myself, but I’m really looking forward to teasing them about their expressions later on. It will be priceless,” he gushed. “Let’s get back into the sitting room and tell them. Oh, wait. Give me a head start!” Not waiting for a response, Ron hurried out of the kitchen, the tray he levitated in front of him wobbling dangerously.

“Hmm, that was not the way I pictured when I had imagined telling our friends,” Harry commented when he was out of sight.

“Me neither,” Draco conceded. “But since he already knew it, I didn’t have the heart to deny it any longer. I’m just a little unhappy that my parents will not be the first ones to hear about their grandchild now.”

Harry grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s fine. It’s entirely my own fault. I should have invited us for dinner at the Manor weeks ago, but somehow, I wanted it to remain our little secret for a bit longer. Quite selfish, I know. But as soon as other people know, we’re going to get lots of advice we don’t want to hear and, well, it won’t be the same.”

“I’m afraid you’re right,” Harry agreed. He feared the same. Of course, Draco’s mother would have much to say when she knew they had a child on the way. After all, she was the one with the experience, the expert. And their friends wouldn’t be any different.

“Well, we’ll see how it goes,” Draco said resolutely. “We didn’t want to wait until the child was born, so I think today is as good as any other day.”

Harry laughed. “It would have been difficult explaining a protruding stomach, don’t you think? People would have become suspicious, at least when the stomach had started to move minutely.”

“A bad bout of flatulence, perhaps,” Draco suggested, grinning.

“Ugh.”

Draco chuckled. “No matter. They’re about to be informed and you won’t have anything to hide from now on. Maybe it’s really better this way. Think about all the flimsy excuses you would have had to come up with tomorrow.”

“What are you thinking of besides not drinking?” Harry asked, after he had tried in vain to think of anything else.

“Well, there’s this ceremony where all guests come together and join tiny bits of their magic, wishing the happy couple luck. If you’re pregnant, it’s generally advised to miss it out. Since your pregnancy is upheld by your magic, that’s even more important.”

Harry nodded in understanding. “And since I am who I am, people would wonder what’s wrong with me. Okay. Well, then I’m doubly glad that Ron noticed that damn cocktail.”

“I wouldn’t have allowed you to participate and endanger you and the little one,” Draco said, pulling him into his arms. 

“I know. But it’s fortunate that now our friends won’t think I’m an egotistical bastard for skipping the ritual,” Harry said, only partly joking. He allowed himself to lean against Draco for a moment and then he pulled back. “Let’s go join them. Ron’s certainly getting impatient.”

“Serves him right! Did you see how he was angling for their incredulous reaction? It’s ridiculous since he wasn’t fairing any better. Sometimes, I think that boy needs more hobbies.”

“Aw, come on. You can’t wait to see their faces, either. We’ve had to live through so many happy announcements, and now, finally, it’s our turn. Enjoy it!”

“I will,” Draco promised. 

Watching his face brightening, Harry wondered how much Draco had been suffering and how much he had struggled to keep it to himself. Unlike Harry, he didn’t have many people he called his friends, so he probably didn’t have anyone besides Harry to talk with about these things. Except maybe Severus? But considering how he refused to ask him about the potion, that was a no as well.

Pushing his negative thoughts aside, Harry reasoned that now everything was going to get better, anyway. It was no use thinking about the past and they’d just make the best of the present and the future.

When they entered the sitting room side by side, one by one the conversations stopped and all eyes went towards Draco and Harry. Though they were certain that Ron hadn’t spoiled their surprise, their friends had probably picked up on his uneasiness and were wondering what had happened in the kitchen.

Their glasses were the only ones remaining on the tray and Harry took both of them, handing the Mai Tai over to Draco. Staring into his drink, he tried to summon his courage. Why was he so nervous about this? It had been a dream for years and now it was coming true. Shaking his head at his own stupidity, Harry peered at Draco. Maybe he was willing to make a little speech?

“You don’t want to tell them yourself?” Draco asked in a whisper.

“No. I’ll stutter.”

“But that will make it even more adorable,” Draco protested, though he was barely able to suppress his pride. Obviously, he couldn’t wait to share their news.

“So cute, yes, I’m sure. But you do it. Unlike me, you’ll love the attention, everyone hanging on your every word.”

“Oh yes,” Draco said with pleasure, his eyes gleaming. Tapping one manicured fingernail against his glass, not that it was needed, Draco allowed himself a few seconds to gather the right words. 

“Everyone, we, Harry and I, have some great news to share with you tonight. We would have waited for another time, but since we were earlier cornered for the truth, we decided to wait no longer. Hannah and Neville, I hope you will forgive us.”

Hannah merely chuckled and Neville motioned for him to go on.

“We are pregnant,” Draco announced. “Well, Harry is.”

If he had wanted to add anything more, it was drowned out by the cheers of their friends. Before he could put his glass aside to save himself from getting drenched in ice and sticky cocktail ingredients, Harry was tackled by Hermione.

“Harry! That’s wonderful! Since when? Do you know? Merlin, I can’t believe it! Congratulations!” 

Gods, that woman was stronger than she looked like. Harry allowed her to hug the stuffing out of him for a moment and then he pulled back. “Thanks, Hermione. But the baby and I need oxygen, as do you and your little one.”

“Oh. Oh! Yes, of course! So, tell me everything,” she squealed, almost hyperventilating in her excitement. 

“No. First, we need to get a hold of the new daddy,” Neville interrupted her and pried her hands off Harry. “I’m so happy for you and Draco and I wish you a wonderful pregnancy. Congratulations!”

Hannah appeared beside them, shoving Neville aside, throwing her arms around Harry. “That’s… Wow! I’m so happy for you two!”

“Like I said, we both are. And don’t even think about having a guilty conscience because you believe you’re intruding in our limelight! Honestly, that is the best news we could get tonight,” Neville reassured him. 

Harry tried to hold back the tears but he couldn’t help it when the one or other escaped despite his best efforts. He was so lucky, having friends like them, especially Neville and Hannah. They should take centre stage tonight, not him and Draco. And yet, they seemed to be genuinely happy for them.

“Well done!” Harry heard Justin praising Draco, clapping him on the back in a very manly way. If Draco had been more delicate, he would have crippled him. Ernie went to join them, aiming for Draco’s other shoulder. Harry figured that, if he was injured, at least he wouldn’t look lopsided. 

“That’s so great. You must be over the moon!” Padma said, trading places with Hannah. Susan peeked over her shoulder.

“I think so, too. Though we haven’t been privy to the details, we assumed that you had started to try for a child sometime ago,” Susan said. 

Harry gulped. Of course they had known. Everyone who knew them must have noticed that they weren’t the happiest of people, especially during those last frustrating months before the pregnancy.

“It’s fine! I’m not saying you’ve been bothersome or anything, but I noticed the look on your face when you saw little Michael for the first time or watching my waddling about during the last months of my pregnancy,” she explained. Searching through her pockets, she produced a tissue. “Here. Look, I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong and I never wanted to make it sound that way. I apologize.”

“Thank you.” Harry dabbed his eyes and muttered, “Bloody hormones.”

“Don’t say that,” Susan rebuked him gently. “I don’t believe in putting the blame for every little emotional outburst on the hormones.”

“You mean I suddenly turned into a whiny idiot?” Harry asked loudly, catching everybody’s attention. Honestly, he didn’t mind so much when his body changed due to the pregnancy. Well, not as much as he thought he would mind. But then he really preferred to blame the changes on the hormones, rather than admitting that it was all him.

“You’re not a ‘whiny idiot’,” Susan said.

Padma nodded. “She’s right. And, honestly, nothing is wrong with you. Of course you’ve been sad before and overjoyed now that you’re finally pregnant. I also happen to think that that’s normal and has nothing to do with the hormones. Well, maybe a little,” she relented when she noticed Harry’s glare.

“Leave the man alone,” Hermione said. “No matter what, we have the right to be as irrational as we want during the upcoming months and you all have to love and support us.” She nodded, satisfied. “There. Harry, don’t listen to them and just enjoy it.”

That sounded better in Harry’s opinion and he smiled at Hermione, grateful that she had read his thoughts.

“Now, let’s put those cocktails to use and drink to Harry and Draco’s baby,” Ron suggested, raising his glass.

Harry looked around, trying to locate his drink or what was left of it. “Um, has anyone seen my glass?”

“Here,” Neville produced a still half-filled glass. Apparently, Harry had bathed in less Virgin Caipi than he had imagined. Well, he wasn’t surprised. He had also missed when Neville had taken it out of his hand. Maybe he wasn’t the most perceptive one lately.

“Thank you.”

“To the baby!” Ron cheered, and everybody followed suit.

\--

Draco batted his hand away, whispering furiously, “No! You can’t expect me to have sex with you when our friends are littered all over the place!”

Normally, Harry would have said something regarding the word choice, but his heart always melted when Draco called them ‘their’ friends. That didn’t mean, though, that he liked the rejection.

“Oh please, Draco. You cannot want me to wank beside you!”

“Am I allowed to watch? Don’t let me hold you back,” Draco said, sounding interested, and rolled over so he was facing Harry.

“I’d rather you participate,” Harry grumbled. Tonight had been wonderful. Their friends had been delighted for them and he had enjoyed sharing positive news and being rewarded by their reactions. Now the only thing missing to make it even better was a little physical closeness and attention from his partner.

“Harry, they’ll know what we’re doing in here…”

“How? That’s what a _Silencio_ is for,” Harry said, batting his eyelashes.

Draco heaved a sigh. “I still think… Oh Harry. Okay.”

“Really?” Harry asked, hardly believing his ears. Usually, convincing Draco was harder when he had already said no.

“Yes. But beforehand, I want that little show you promised me,” Draco stated, smirking cruelly in Harry’s opinion.

“I didn’t promise anything,” Harry back-paddled. While he had no problem touching himself when they had sex, lying back and doing it in front of Draco’s curious eyes was something else entirely.

“Maybe not outright, no. But you uttered the wish to wank right here in the bedroom and I happen to think that’s a wonderful idea.”

Harry took a deep breath. “You, too?”

Draco’s eyebrow shot up until it almost disappeared under his hairline. “Huh?”

“I’ll do it if you do it.”

Instead of giving a verbal answer, Draco scrambled for his wand and cast the required Silencing Charm. He locked the door for good measure and turned back to Harry, leaning against the headboard of the bed. “You take the bottom end of the bed,” he instructed.

Harry blinked. “Shouldn’t we sit or lie side by side?”

“No. I want to see what you’re doing.”

Blushing and averting his face in a meek try to hide it, Harry obeyed and situated himself according to Draco’s wishes.

“And now?”

“We start. But first…” Draco reached for his wand once more, and this time, he banished their clothes.

“You could have warned me,” Harry said, feeling a bit exposed all of a sudden. Taking in Draco’s smug grin, he decided to get back at him for thinking he was able to provoke him like that.

Ensuring he held Draco’s gaze, Harry leaned back and spread his legs, bending his knees a little to get more comfortable. When Draco’s eyes widened fractionally, he could be certain that he had a good view. 

Perfect.

Narrowing his eyes, Harry ran both hands over his inner thighs, making sure to graze his balls from time to time with his fingertips, as well as brushing lightly over his hole. Still, he steadfastly avoided touching his cock.

Draco was still avidly watching his every move and, so far, hadn’t moved a muscle himself. Harry hummed under his breath. This was fun, he decided. Instead of feeling embarrassed like he had expected, Harry found that he was curious to see just how far he would be able to go until Draco cracked and fucked him already.

He didn’t look up; he refused to let Draco believe that what he did was for the blonde’s entertainment. But he knew he had his attention when he heard him taking deeper breaths. Apparently, Draco was following his own agenda, planning to let Harry put in some real effort. Well, he didn’t mind since he knew he already had his lover where he wanted him to be.

Harry was no top. He wasn’t interested in being the dominant partner when it came to sex. But, from time to time, he loved playing with Draco and it was especially fun when Draco thought he was the one who was playing with Harry. Not that he minded being played with…in bed, at least.

When his avoidance of actually touching his cock was starting to stress him, Harry gave in and summoned the pot of custom-made lube. Draco had foregone his usual dislike of invention and created something especially for them. Not only did it smell nice, it also tasted good. For some reason, he had managed to create a taste that varied a little, depending on where it was put. Besides, their own brand of lube didn’t vanish during sex. Once applied, you didn’t have to think about it anymore. Harry had never understood how he did it, but that hardly mattered. He loved it nonetheless. 

Smearing a generous amount on himself, Harry put the pot aside and got comfortable once more. Just as he was about to reach for his cock, he decided to treat his nipples to a little attention. He loved having them played with. When he did it himself, it wasn’t quite as exciting as the element of surprise was missing, but that didn’t mean that it was bad. So Harry indulged in some nipple play, knowing the procrastination would drive Draco mad.

Watching Draco through his lashes, Harry sighed. He looked so hot with his grey eyes fixed on Harry and his hands clenching the sheets. 

“Oh…” The latest flick of his nail against his right nipple had gone straight to Harry’s cock. Now, he really didn’t want to wait any longer and he took himself firmly in hand. After a few tentative tugs, he settled into a steady rhythm, up and down. 

His left hand had lingered on his chest for a moment, but now he trailed it downwards as well. There was so much excessive lubrication on his skin, and it would be a shame to let it go to waste. Making sure his fingers were sufficiently coated, Harry let his hand travel between his legs, gently brushing his middle finger over his hole.

Feeling it twitch under his touch, Harry closed his eyes. Sod that. This wasn’t solely for Draco, but also for himself. Allowing the finger to slip inside up to the first knuckle, Harry marvelled how easy it was. Apparently, spending a careless evening with his friends had done wonders for him as he was completely relaxed.

A moan from the other side of the bed made him look up again. Draco had grabbed the lube and was busy applying it to his dick. He didn’t spare a glance at what he was doing, didn’t care that he made a bit of a mess. Instead, his eyes were still firmly trained on Harry.

Cold toes nudged his shin and Harry took it as a cue to continue what he had been doing. He resumed his task but slowed his movements, trying to stop himself from coming too soon. That evil finger inside of him was making it difficult enough, especially since it was getting bolder.

From Draco’s side of the bed, Harry was able to hear the unmistakable noises of someone wanking, and, this time, it was him that moaned. This time, Harry didn’t hide his watching Draco. On the contrary, he wanted him to be aware that his every move was watched. 

Following Draco’s eyes, Harry pulled the finger out before inserting it again, accompanied by the index finger. He had to strain his arm a bit and the position wasn’t exactly comfortable, but the sensation of the slight stretch was worth it. Now to reach his prostate…

Harry scooted forwards until he was no longer propped up against the headboard, but mostly lying on the mattress. Pulling his knees to his chest, he sighed contentedly when he put his hands back in place. That was much better.

“Harry…” Draco sounded choked and, for a brief moment Harry wondered what kind of display he was presenting. Thankfully, he was quickly able to push back those disruptive thoughts.

The mattress dipped and suddenly, Draco appeared in Harry’s line of sight. He was kneeling in front of him, his thighs pressing against Harry’s arse, the pressure helping to push his fingers further inside. It was very much appreciated and it must have shown on his face.

“Gods, what… Harry…” Obviously, Draco had no complaints but was rather happy with him. 

“Unless you want me to suffer from tendonitis, would you mind replacing my fingers with your cock?” Harry asked sweetly. Well, as sweetly as he could manage, since he was struggling to utter anything remotely coherent at all.

“What?” Draco seemed confused and Harry forced his brain to come up with something less clever, something Draco’s mind would be able to compute even in his aroused state.

“Fuck me!”

That worked like a charm.

\--

The next day dawned bright and early. Even though it was hours until they had to leave the house, Harry wanted to wake up in time to see his guests out. Plus, he had to ensure that everyone who wanted some tea or coffee would get some. 

When he entered the kitchen, the first thing he saw was Winky. To his delight, the house-elf, who must have returned sometime during the night, was making breakfast and had already prepared more tea and coffee than they could hope to drink.

“Thank you, Winky,” Harry said, pouring himself some tea. He used the biggest cup he had been able to locate.

The elf’s big eyes followed him, but so far she hadn’t dared to say anything to him. Harry had no idea if that was a reason for concern. But since he hadn’t pressed Draco for specifics considering his talk with Winky last night, he decided to let it go for the moment. Maybe he had her cowed and now she didn’t know how to address him. He would give her a little more time and see what happened.

“Harry! Merlin, did you fall out of bed?” Justin greeted him in a raspy voice. He was mostly relying on his sense of touch when he made his way to the table, apparently unable to open his eyes all the way.

“Well, I’d wish you a good morning but I’m afraid that’s not what it seems like to you. What happened?” Harry asked, providing the man with coffee according to Justin’s tastes: black and plenty.

“That last cocktail was bad.”

Harry grinned. “Yes. And the five beforehand have nothing to do with it.”

“No, they do not. They were all good,” Justin muttered and took a big gulp, cursing when the hot liquid burned his tongue. He panted for a moment, and then he took another drink. “That stuff is hot.”

“Really?” Harry raised an eyebrow. “I would never have thought.”

“Ugh. Shut up…”

“Don’t mind him,” Padma said from the door. “He’s got a bad headache and won’t be his usual self before we have access to some potions.”

She went over to her boyfriend and patted him on the arm, causing Justin to growl and remove his limb from her touch. 

Padma shrugged and shared a look with Harry that said “See what I mean?”

“Fortunately, my boyfriend happens to keep some potions on stock for emergencies. Let me pop to the bathroom and I’ll see what I can find for you,” Harry suggested and Padma nodded thankfully. Justin merely grunted but Harry took that as sign of appreciation. “I’ll be right back.”

A few minutes later he returned to the kitchen and found it more crowded than it had been when he left.

“Good morning.”

“Harry, good morning,” Neville smiled at him over his tea.

“Hi. I thought you and Hannah went home last night?”

“I took her home and then I came back. We thought it would be fun not seeing each other before the ceremony. Hermione said it’s some kind of tradition with Muggles. Well, it should make things more interesting. I can’t wait to see her in her dress.”

“Yes, well…” Harry licked his lips. They hadn’t stopped to think about what would happen when they had actually bought wedding clothes on their own and were looking forward to wearing them during the ceremony. Besides, he hadn’t thought that they would plan to get ready in the different buildings. “Where did you plan to dress? If Hannah’s at home…?”

“Uh, I assumed here. I brought my robes and everything. But if this is a bad idea, I could ask Ron,” Neville offered, looking insecure. “Or maybe Ernie… I remember that Susan was going to help Hannah and should be already gone by now.”

“Of course you can come with us,” Ron said instantly, clapping Harry on the back. “Morning.”

“No, no that was not... – One moment.” Harry went to the table and put the potions down in front of Justin. “Here you go. Do you recognize them all or do you need an explanation.”

“Huh?”

“It’s fine, Harry. Thank you. I already spotted the Anti-Hangover Potion and something for his headache. You don’t happen to have one among them that was going to lift his spirit? No?” Padma shrugged.

Harry chuckled. “No, I’m sorry. But here is one that will help with nausea…”

“Yes, please,” Justin muttered and held out his hand for the vial.

“Have fun.” Harry winked at Padma and left them to it. Turning back to Ron and Neville, he tried to get Ron’s attention. 

“Harry? Is something the matter?”

Damn.

“No, everything’s fine. Do you want something to eat? Or are you too nervous already?” Harry asked, hoping against hope that it would work and he would get the chance to speak to Ron privately.

Unfortunately, Neville wasn’t that easily distracted.

“No. Thanks, though.”

“Can’t stomach anything, hmm?” Ron asked sympathetically. “I remember those hours. Well, as soon as it starts, it’ll get better.”

“So I’ve only got four more hours to go insane. How reassuring,” Neville joked, wrinkling his nose. 

“Would you like to take a long, relaxing bath? Maybe that would help settle your nerves?”

“Oh yes, please! That sounds absolutely wonderful!”

“Let me check if Draco’s out of the bathroom yet. Then you could use the master bathroom. It has one of the most comfortable tubs I’ve ever seen,” Harry promised, already hurrying out of the kitchen without waiting for an answer. He needed to talk to Ron and, hopefully, Hermione, and they needed to devise a plan as soon as possible.

Bursting into their bedroom, Harry skidded to a halt when he found Draco still in bed. His boyfriend cracked one eye open.

“Is the house on fire?”

“No. But we’ve got a problem and Neville wants to use our bathtub.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Get up and come to the kitchen. I’ll be waiting downstairs.” Harry turned and walked out of the door.

“Good morning to you, too!” He heard Draco yelling when he was descending the stairs. 

\--

“Okay, so Neville wants to dress here. And Hannah is at home with Susan?” Hermione asked, stirring some tea into her milk. Harry shuddered. Apparently, her sense of taste had already changed.

He nodded.

“That’s no problem. I’m going to head home, gather her robes, and take them to her. Ron, maybe you could bring Neville’s clothes here?”

“Thank you. But what do we do if they have chosen something to wear and don’t want to forego it in favour of our gift?”

Hermione blinked. “You think so?”

“Well, it is a possibility,” Harry said, looking from one to the other. 

“We can’t rule it out, but honestly, I don’t think so.” Draco nudged Harry. “Stop thinking so negatively. I believe they’re going to be delighted when they see the robes. You and Hermione chose very nice ones.”

“Yes, but--” 

“We’ll deliver them and then we wait. If they happen to refuse them – or look unhappy in the slightest – we have a problem. But only if that should happen. In that case, we’ll think on our feet and come up with a solution,” Hermione decided, already getting up. “Thank Winky for the breakfast. She must have been up for hours to prepare that kind of feast.”

Ron stood as well. “Is it okay with you if we use your Floo?”

“Yes, of course!” Harry nodded emphatically.

The Weasleys waved their goodbyes and left the kitchen. Soon thereafter, the whoosh of the Floo was audible.

\--

As it turned out, Harry’s concerns had been partly unfounded and partly justified. Neville had gladly put aside the robes he had been planning to wear, but Hannah had needed some convincing. In the end, she had gladly agreed to wear the matching robes to Neville’s during the ceremony and change into her own clothes for the celebration afterwards. She had been grateful for the gift, but hadn’t been able to help to feel a little sad to dismiss her own choice since she had fallen in love with it.

The ceremony had gone well and, despite his earlier nervousness, Neville had managed to speak his few sentences without a stutter. Harry had been so happy for him, almost unable to suppress his pride. 

What was even more important, Augusta Longbottom had tears in her eyes whenever she was glancing at her grandson, because she was proud of him and his accomplishments. For once in her life, she was eagerly telling everyone who was willing to listen that he was her Frank’s boy and just like him.

Hannah was a beautiful bride. Everyone said so, and even Draco commended her looks. Harry knew that he would never say anything like that if he didn’t mean it. She had worn the robes a bit longer than she had intended, overwhelmed when she had noticed that her husband was really dressed in matching clothes. Though she had been told beforehand, she hadn’t been able to picture it. Only when the time came to start dancing, had she changed into her own dress.

Now that the night wore on, more and more people forgot about the formal setting of the wedding ceremony and the noise level was gradually increasing. It had been fun for a while, and now Harry started to get tired again. So far, he had been doing fine; all the excitement had helped keep him awake.

“I’ll be right back,” Harry said to Hermione who had been keeping him company when Draco and Ron had decided that they needed another drink and absolutely couldn’t wait until it would be served.

He thought a bit of exercise would do him good, and a visit to the bathroom was always worth his time. That was one of the things he had known about pregnancies beforehand and it had proved to be true.

Hermione nodded and stood up herself, joining Ginny, who had just come back from checking on her daughter. Aurelia was sleeping in a room on the other end of the hall. She wasn’t the only child that had been put to rest there. Gabriel, Susan’s son, was there as well as the rest of the youngest Weasleys.

Despite, or rather because of his own inability to deal with her, Harry admired Hermione all the more for her patience. Sadly, things hadn’t worked out like everyone had hoped and even though Graham had put forth some effort after the birth, it hadn’t taken him long to decide that, maybe, Ginny wasn’t the right woman for him after all and being a father wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Simply put, he had taken the liberty of taking a timeout for an infinite amount of time to come to a definite decision…sometime in the future. 

Ginny had moved back in with her parents, bringing little Aurelia with her. Now she was basically spending her days doing the same as Graham: thinking about questions of principles. 

Harry could understand her need to sort herself after the life altering changes. What he failed to see was, why she couldn’t do that and look after her child at the same time. That task had mostly fallen to the proud grandmother, and Mrs Weasley doted on her, obviously not entirely unhappy with the way things had turned out. 

Still, Harry wondered if he would have acted the same way and somehow he couldn’t it find it in him to support her like he should do as her friend. As long as he wasn’t able to do that, he had decided to keep a bit of a distance between them – for both their sakes.

Closing the bathroom door behind him, Harry exhaled in relief. The relative quietness was greatly appreciated, and he allowed himself to lean against the wood for a moment, closing his eyes. Taking a deep breath, Harry pushed himself off the door after a minute and headed towards the nearest urinal. Cursing his robes to hell, like he used to do since he had started to wear them, Harry fumbled for the front of his trousers he was wearing beneath. When his fingers met the cloth of his underwear, he startled.

There was some dampness.

Frowning, Harry shook his wand into his hand and locked the door. He didn’t need an audience for what he was about to do, namely stripping in the middle of the room. 

Then he saw it. A few drops of something wet sprinkled the cloth. It certainly wasn’t urine and nothing lumpier, so it wasn’t anything he would have expected. That only left one other option. 

Blood.

Only it wasn’t red. It was brownish, almost slimy, and the sight made Harry shudder. His baby!

Forgetting about the original reason for coming into the bathroom, Harry hurriedly stuffed his clothing back in place and went in search of Draco. In his panic, it didn’t even occur to him to just send him a Patronus.

Rushing through the throng of guests, Harry fought back his tears. He didn’t have the time for a coherent thought, but he was worried to death about the child inside of him and he couldn’t find Draco. Where in blazes was he? And why, why, why did it always have to be him? Didn’t he deserve a few happy weeks in a row like everyone else?

Merlin, if anything happened to the baby he’d surely die. He couldn’t imagine…

“Draco!” Harry all but yelled when he spotted the familiar white blond head in the crowd.

Draco spun around on his heel, setting his drink aside in one fluid motion, and was by his side in an instant. 

“Harry?” 

“I…”

“What happened? Are you hurt? In pain?” Draco asked in rapid succession, raking his gaze over Harry, looking for clues.

“I’m… _bleeding_. You know…” Harry hissed. He didn’t know how to describe it. Apparently, there was blood coming out of his arse, but he wasn’t about to say it outright, surrounded by dozens of people, with no idea who was standing close enough to overhear him.

Thankfully, Draco seemed to understand him only too well, if the speed at which he paled was any indication. Wrapping an arm around Harry’s waist, he guided him towards the exit.

“Shouldn’t we tell anyone--” After all, he was the best man.

“Not now,” Draco said firmly, already reaching for the Floo powder. Unlike him, he didn’t even bother to collect his cloak, so Harry deduced that he was not the only one shocked by the news.

“We’ll go together. I don’t want to risk you stumbling out of a fireplace tonight.”

Harry nodded his agreement and allowed Draco to pull him close. He didn’t even pay attention when he called out their destination.

\--

Draco had taken him straight to the infirmary and was already placing him on a bed when Madam Pomfrey came out of her quarters, her wand in hand.

“Mr Malfoy, what is the meaning of this?”

“It’s Harry, Madam. We need help!” Draco said, looking at her beseechingly.

“Harry? What’s wrong with you, dear?” The elderly witch peered at him, concern written all over her face.

Harry noticed that she wasn’t wearing her typical uniform; instead, she must have pulled some robes over her nightclothes. But, that was quickly forgotten when he comprehended what she was asking of him.

“Um…” He gulped. Gods, the woman didn’t even know about the pregnancy. Maybe she had suspected something, he couldn’t be sure, but he had certainly never informed her himself.

Draco took charge. He cleared his throat and started to explain.

“Madam, Harry’s pregnant. There have been no issues so far, but now he saw himself confronted with some bleeding.”

To her credit, she remained calm as she asked, “Bleeding? Fresh blood? Or is it more like spotting?”

“Spotting?” Harry asked, unsure what would be the correct answer.

“Forgive me. Any female would understand what I am asking. Since you are not used to things like that – and hopefully you will never have to be,” she amended quickly, “let me clarify. Spotting means it is old, brown blood, perhaps mixed with some new, but overall nothing like you would encounter when you cut your finger.”

“Slimy?” Harry dared to asked, blushing furiously.

“That, too.” The nurse sighed. “Let us take a look at you. I gather you are familiar with the spell to see the child?”

Both young men nodded and Harry was grateful when Draco reached for his hand. In his head, he started repeating the same thing over and over, like a mantra. “Don’t let it be dead. Don’t let it be dead. Don’t let it be dead.”

Draco was as white as the hospital sheets. However, he kept his eyes firmly trained on the point above Harry’s lower body where the hologram would surface.

And then, they could see it. It didn’t look any different than it had all the times they had seen it before. But was it still alive?

Madam Pomfrey’s eyes narrowed into slits as she looked at the tiny embryo in concentration. For a moment, Harry thought he’d seen the heartbeat, but he was afraid that he had seen something else. He didn’t want to hope in vain.

Oh Gods, whatever he had thought he had seen, surely it hadn’t been his child! Pomfrey had yet to say something, and Harry was terrified that she had long since noticed that it was dead and was taking her time, pondering how to let them know.

Draco’s hand in his was getting slippery with sweat. Harry wanted to ask him if he had seen it too, the short flickering, but was afraid of the answer.

Suddenly, Pomfrey smiled. She pointed at the hologram and said, “Here. Did you see that? That little, glimmering point? That is the heart of your baby. It is alive.”

Harry closed his eyes and felt part of the tension leave his body. Draco squeezed his hand and addressed the mediwitch. 

“Can you see if it’s healthy? Maybe check if it’s grown enough for its age?”

She nodded, patting Harry’s arm before she started waving her wand again.

“I would say you are eight, maybe nine weeks along, considering the size of the embryo. Would that be correct?”

Draco looked at Harry, a big question mark above his head.

“Yes. I should be at the beginning of the ninth week.” He almost daren’t to believe his luck. Could everything be fine? Had he worried for nothing? Oh Merlin, please let her say everything looks good, he prayed.

“Then I am satisfied with the size. They are so hard to measure when they are still so tiny. One or two millimetres make a huge difference during that age. But as it looks, I am confident that your child lies perfectly within the norm.”

“Thank you, Madam.” Draco sank onto the chair situated beside Harry’s bed. Apparently, now that the immediate catastrophe was settled, his strength was rapidly leaving him.

Harry was so relieved but still, there was one thing he didn’t understand.

“So why am I bleeding?” he asked while she ended the spell and the hologram dispersed.

“Yes, Harry, that is the question. Mr Malfoy, if you would leave us for a moment? Please close the curtain when you go.”

Draco’s head snapped up. “What?”

“I need to examine him. Physically, not just using a few spells,” she explained patiently. As she was speaking, she was already reaching for some gloves. 

Harry’s eyes widened. Those were the same things that Healer had been wearing in St. Mungo’s. Now he understood what she was about to do.

“Harry? Is that all right or would you rather have me call your Healer?” Madam Pomfrey asked sympathetically. 

“I don’t have one,” he admitted meekly, feeling stupid for not having let someone check him and the baby so far.

“Oh. You do not? Then how did you learn about the pregnancy? Did you look up the spell?” she asked. “Please, do not get me wrong. You are so early yet that it is not necessary to check you regularly, but I have to admit that I am curious.”

“Someone told me.”

“About the spell?”

“No. That I’m most likely pregnant. Then we performed the spell.”

“I see. Well, then we should make sure now that you are comparatively all right, should we not?” She snapped the gloves on. “Mr Malfoy?”

“Harry?” Draco ignored the impatient tapping of the witch’s foot. “You decide. I can stay or I can leave. Whatever you prefer...”

What a stupid choice, Harry griped mentally. He didn’t want the examination, period. What did she want to see, anyway? His underclothes? She was welcome to take a look. But, if she wanted to check where the blood was coming from? Ugh.

Draco looked at him, pity in his eyes. “Would it be easier if it was a man doing the examination?”

Harry shrugged. Maybe. Bloody hell. A few minutes ago he wouldn’t have given a damn, but now that he wasn’t afraid of losing the child at any moment, he found he did, indeed, care about it.

“Look, I can use a spell to check the womb your body has created. To some extent, that also works for the passage leading there. But, like with every pregnant person, we can only rely on spells so far. And even though you might not like to hear it, at the latest when the child is about to be born, you will have to get used to the thought of being naked in front of people. I am sorry, but there is no way around it.”

Harry winced. No, he wouldn’t think about that now. But all that arguing didn’t help at the moment. Honestly, he wanted to know, too, that everything was okay and baby’s home was still keeping it safe. Gathering his famous courage, he nodded at Draco. “Okay, leave us alone for a moment.” _…and Obliviate me afterwards._

\--

Fortunately, Pomfrey had been quick. She undressed his lower part with a spell and checked for any damage. Then, she performed the spell she had mentioned. Before he knew it, Harry had been dressed in one of the usual pyjamas patients wore during their involuntary stay in the hospital wing.

Unfortunately, she had found what she described as a haematoma. She explained that, most likely, that was what was causing the bleeding. Since it had stopped by then, though, he would be returning home. 

Draco had gone to his quarters, gathering whatever he felt Harry would need during the upcoming days. Before he returned to the infirmary, he would make a quick detour via the Headmistress’ office and inform her about the indefinite leave of her DADA Professor. Harry had wanted to cry when Draco told him of his plans, but even he had to admit that there really was no other way. If he continued working and not resting enough, he would endanger their child.

Nobody wanted that.

The door to the hospital wing opened and Harry turned his head towards it, expecting to see Draco enter. But it wasn’t him.

“Harry. Hello.”

“Severus,” Harry greeted him, unsure how he was supposed to react. He didn’t have a firm hold on his emotions and was worried how he would act if the older man asked about his state of health. Additionally, he knew that Pomfrey could come back any moment. She had left him for a few minutes to give him some time to recover from the unpleasantness of the examination. He had been grateful since he had hardly been able to look her in the eyes.

“I happened to be with the Headmistress when she had an unexpected visitor.”

“Yes, well… We decided it would be better if I stopped teaching for a while. Well, not only teaching. I’m not allowed to do anything but eat and sleep and rest until Pomfrey feels satisfied that the bleeding has stopped for good,” Harry said, not meeting the other man’s gaze. Surely, Severus hated him for leaving him hanging like that. Now, he was irrevocably stuck having to teach two subjects. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for? For being sick? Somehow I doubt that you wished this upon yourself only to get out of your duties.”

“What? No!” Harry protested. Of course he hadn’t wanted to be bedridden. He wanted his child to be safe and, if it wasn’t asking too much, he would have loved to enjoy his pregnancy in good health. Sadly, that was not the case. But since when did anything ever turn out the way he wanted it to?

“This spotting, I assume it is?” Severus said and paused, waiting for Harry to nod. “Did she find out what caused it?”

Harry shook his head. But then he reconsidered. “Well, yes. She found a haematoma in the womb.”

“So it is no simple contact bleeding,” Severus muttered under his breath. He sounded distinctly worried. 

Harry bit his lip. He had no idea what he was talking about, but apparently, Severus wasn’t exactly relieved hearing about Pomfrey’s findings.

“Um, is there any potion I could take? To help, I mean.”

Severus thought for a moment. “No, there is not. It is also debatable whether strict inactivity is of avail. But, considering that there is no other solution, it is still advisable that you abide by the bed rest.”

Harry gulped. He’d rather have not heard that.

“As far as I understood, the chances for the child’s survival are good,” Severus offered instead of an apology.

“We hope so,” Harry said quietly, his voice close to breaking.

\--

The following days were gruesome. It didn’t take Harry long until he was certain his back would break from the inactivity. He was bored to death after one day spent on the sofa, no matter how many books and journals Draco had piled on the coffee table. Since they hadn’t told their friends the truth, no one was coming to see him, providing some sort of distraction.

But the worst part was going to the bathroom. That small task proved to be sheer torture. Every time he went, Harry was terrified of what he would find. Would there be new blood? Sometimes, he tried to keep himself from looking, but he rarely succeeded. By the end of the second day at home, he was a nervous wreck.

“Harry, why won’t you let me tell Hermione and Ron? I really think you could do with some company, other than Winky, that is,” Draco tried for the fourth time.

“Because I don’t need the pity. And they won’t be able to relate to how I am – how we are, seeing that she’s having the most wonderful pregnancy.” Harry wasn’t exactly jealous, but, at the moment, he couldn’t cope with watching his friend looking healthy and radiant.

Draco heaved a sigh. “Well, in order to understand someone else, one doesn’t necessarily have to go through the same.”

“But it helps.”

“Would you prefer her suffering as well?”

“Shut up.”

“Gladly.” Draco spun around and stalked out of the room, slamming the door closed in his wake.

\--

Two hours later, Harry still hadn’t seen or heard anything of Draco and was starting to wonder if he had left. It wouldn’t be typical for him, but if he were still here, surely he would have checked on Harry by now?

How he wished he had agreed to inform his friends. Then he would have someone to talk to instead of staring at the wall, bored out of his mind. Apart from that, Harry was partly angry with Draco and partly annoyed with himself. But no, they had fobbed them off with some harebrained explanation containing Mrs Malfoy and an accident that had never taken place. Of course, their lie had only been possible because the elder Malfoys rarely left the Manor these days, and the people they were associating with would never mingle with the likes of the Weasleys or Longbottoms, let alone Muggle-borns.

Deciding he needed something positive, Harry reached for his wand, performing the spell on himself, smiling when he saw the tiny hologram of his child. It was still too small to see what gender it was, but the limbs could be seen more clearly and it had stopped resembling a peanut. It was starting to look like a real human being. Tiny, but perfect.

He ended the spell, feeling better already. Warmth was spreading through him and he couldn’t suppress his lips curving into a smile. Baby watching never failed to improve his mood.

When Draco hadn’t reappeared three hours after he had stormed out of the room, Harry went to bed. For a moment he pondered if he should spend the night on the couch, leaving the bed to Draco, but then he shook his head at his own stupidity. It was his house. No way was he allowing anyone to drive him out of his own bedroom, not even a disgruntled Malfoy.

Awaking in the middle of the night, as he was used to, Harry noted another presence beside him. He rolled over and regarded Draco in the dim light of the room. He looked as exhausted as Harry felt. There were dark smudges under his eyes and even in his sleep, he was strung tight as a bow.

Harry sighed and got out of bed, moving almost silently as he wanted to avoid disturbing Draco’s sleep. Only when he had closed the bathroom door behind himself, did he dare to put on the light. Shuffling over to the bowl, he peed and only when he was about to put his nightclothes back in order, did he notice a distinct wetness. His sleep-addled mind took a moment to process the information and then he yanked his pyjama bottoms down.

Fuck.

Suddenly, it was almost impossible to breathe. His heart was beating in his throat and Harry sank onto the closed lid of the toilet. That couldn’t be real. He was still lying in his bed and was having the mother of all nightmares. Closing his eyes, he tried to control his erratic breathing, but to no avail. He was dreaming and he had to wake the fuck up, Harry mentally yelled at himself.

But if he was dreaming, then why was the cold of the plastic beneath his arse making him shiver?

He didn’t know how he did it, but, somehow, Harry found his way back into the bedroom, lowering himself onto the mattress. He felt sick.

What was he supposed to do? Surely everything was fine? It had to be, he reassured himself, but the next moment, a violent shudder went through his whole body.

Nudging Draco none too gently, Harry hissed his name.

“Huh?” Draco tried to move away from the finger poking his side, but Harry was persistent.

“Draco! I… The spotting is back.”

“What?” Draco sat up in one fluid movement. He spelled the lights on and turned towards Harry.

“I’ve just noticed…” 

Harry wanted to cry. Why him? Why now? Part of him wanted Draco to hold him but another part was still insecure where they stood. Was his boyfriend still mad at him? Why was he even here? Where had he been the remainder of the evening?

“Oh Merlin…” Running both hands through his hair, Draco then leaped out of the bed. “We need to get you to St. Mungo’s. If it was anything else, I would suggest Hogwarts, but in this case, I think a more experienced Healer would be advantageous.”

Harry nodded but remained where he was.

“Do you want to remain in your pyjamas?” Draco asked, instantly reassuring him, “That’s okay. You’re dressed and that’s enough.”

Harry shrugged. He knew he should show more interest but sometime during the last minutes, his mind seemed to have shut down.

“All right. Uh… I don’t know if you’re allowed to Floo by yourself,” Draco admitted, frowning. “Hold on, I’ll be back momentarily.” 

Draco rushed out of the room and thundered down the stairs. Harry had no idea what he was planning, but figured that, most likely, he would call someone for advice on how to proceed. Considering the strange pain he had started to experience sometime during the last day and not paid attention to until now, Harry thought it didn’t matter anyways.

He closed his eyes and forced himself to remain calm. Calm down. Whatever.

Eventually, he heard someone talking. At first he wondered why Draco was speaking so loudly, but then he noticed that it was not only Draco’s voice. 

Two pairs of feet mounted the stairs in a rapid pace, and then Draco re-entered the room, closely followed by Severus.

Draco hovered a few feet from the bed, wringing his hands, while Severus perched on the edge of the mattress. 

“When did you detect the spotting? Are you in pain?”

“Half an hour ago. Yes,” Harry answered automatically.

Draco gasped. “You didn’t say--”

“That does not help,” Severus interrupted him in a soft voice. “When did you first start to feel it?”

“Don’t know. Probably this afternoon?”

For once, Severus didn’t rebuke him for replying in uncertain terms. He simply nodded and asked when Harry had last checked on the baby.

“Tonight.”

“I assume everything was in order?”

Harry nodded. Gods, he felt so stupid. What if he had missed something vital? What if the baby was now dead and it could have been saved?

Severus seemed to read his mind for he said, “If anything happened, nothing could have prevented it. In this early stage, there is practically nothing you can do to make a pregnancy last.” He sat up straighter. “Let us have a look.”

Before one of the young men could protest, he was already waving his wand in a familiar movement. 

Then they waited.

The hologram appeared as it should. But that’s where the normalcy ended.

It didn’t move.

There was no heartbeat.

His baby was dead.

Harry didn’t need Severus to spell it out for him and, fortunately, he refrained from doing so. His expression said it all.

His own vision already blurring from unshed tears, Harry’s eyes darted towards Draco and he held out a hand to him. Draco hurried over and fell to his knees beside the bed, pulling Harry into a tight embrace. If he jostled Severus along the way, he didn’t care.

Feeling those strong arms enfold him, Harry gave up his struggle to suppress his emotions and crumpled, sobbing into Draco’s shoulder. He wasn’t the only one.

The older man must have got up eventually, for when he was next speaking, his voice came from the door. “Boys, I Floo-called the hospital and they suggested that we get there soon. Normally, it is not necessary to act quickly, but with male pregnancies, they recommend utmost caution.”

Draco pulled back a little and turned his head. “Why?”

“In order to allow the Healers to ensure Harry’s safety. I would rather not tell you about what it might entail, but I suggest that we follow the advice I was given,” Severus said calmly. He moved closer again and patted each of them on the shoulder. “Do you want to change into some other clothing?”

“No. I’ll throw on a robe,” Draco decided. “Harry will stay like he is.”

“Of course,” Severus agreed readily. “We got permission to Floo directly to the Healer’s office. From there, it is possible to move us without anyone taking notice.”

“You’ll come along?” Draco asked pleadingly.

“Yes, Draco. Now get up.”

Draco most unwillingly removed himself from Harry’s grasp and got to his feet. When he was about to bend to help Harry up as well, Severus shook his head.

“Allow me,” he said and then he scooped Harry up in his arms. Any other time, he would feel incredibly embarrassed, but now he only leaned his head against Severus’ shoulder and closed his eyes, wishing himself into another dimension.

\--

Unfortunately, his wish wasn’t granted and what followed was an experience Harry didn’t want to repeat ever again. He’d rather die.

They Floo’d to St. Mungo’s and were welcomed by Healer Jones and a few other people dressed in green that Harry didn’t recognize. Upon arrival, they were whisked to another room almost instantly and Severus placed him on an examination bed.

His pyjama bottoms were spelled off without a warning. After casting a few spells, the Healer snapped on the dreaded gloves and, courtesy of another incantation, Harry’s legs were suddenly raised into the air. If he hadn’t been so out of it by then, he would have protested with all his might.

Instead of paying attention to the prodding and stretching, he concentrated on Draco’s eyes, unnaturally big in the white face hovering over him. They were holding on to each other, both of them fighting against new bouts of tears.

In the background, voices were talking urgently, and then Severus appeared in Harry’s line of sight, waiting until he had his attention.

Harry shuddered, only now remembering that someone else had been with them as well. Thankfully, his legs had been lowered again and he was covered with a thin sheet.

“Are you with me? Okay…” Severus sighed. “You are going to need surgery. The embryo cannot stay inside of you and they are not able to remove it magically, well, not with a simple spell. It is a bit more complicated.”

“They’re… With knives?” Draco asked in a small voice, almost squeaking, and Harry was reminded that the blond was a true wizarding child and had no idea what other ways there were to treat people.

“No, mostly with spells,” Severus reassured him. “Besides, Healers do not use knives like the ones you know.”

Clearly, Draco wasn’t any calmer and Harry didn’t feel much better. He wanted to tell Draco that it would be okay, but he was pretty confident that he wouldn’t be able to pull it off, so he kept his mouth shut.

“Mr Potter, we need you to sign a few things before we can start,” Healer Jones said. “It’s good to see that you’re doing well otherwise.”

What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Harry growled, but obediently signed everything they held in front of his hand. It wasn’t as if he had any other options.

“Thank you. My team will prepare you and we’re going to see each other afterwards,” Jones stated in a matter-of-fact tone before he left the room.

Draco snorted and Severus explained that the man was going to change into other robes for the procedure, causing Draco to flinch.

“Oh Gods…”

“It will be fine.”

Harry wanted to believe him. He really did. But when his legs were raised again, even higher this time around, he shivered despite himself.

A mediwizard held out a vial to him, instructing him to sip it slowly.

“What’s that?”

“Something to put you to sleep. Waking up after a surgery is unpleasant either way, but it is a fraction better with this than after having been stunned,” Severus said, taking the vial from Harry. “There is no rush. Draco.” He gestured for him to give Harry another hug.

It was a bit uncomfortable since his lower body was restricted in its movement, but they managed.

“Does the potion simply knock him out?”

Severus nodded. “Yes. The respective area will be numbed by spells. Do not worry, Draco, their effectiveness will be checked before anything is done,” he added, heading off Draco’s next question ahead of time.

Soon afterwards, Harry took the last gulp of the potion and drifted off to sleep. At first, he tried to fight the effect, but eventually, he gave in and closed his eyes. Someone was standing behind him, Harry’s head cradled between both forearms and whispering to him to let go.

\--

He must have been awake before, he thought, but everything had been hazy and painful and strange, and he couldn’t be certain. This time, when Harry woke up, his position wasn’t much more relaxed, but the pain was bearable. It was still there, of course, and he was sure that someone had shredded his innards, but, somehow, he found that he didn’t care that much.

He opened his eyes tentatively, afraid of what he was about to see. These days, playing dead was often the best solution. But when he cracked first one eye, then the other open, nothing earth shattering happened. 

The lights around him were dimmed, but as he raised a hand to his face, he could make out its silhouette. Without his glasses, nothing more was to be expected. Growing braver, he rolled on his back, moving carefully to avoid anything that might trigger another bout of pain.

To his left someone moved, probably having been alerted to his waking by the rustling of the sheets.

“Harry?”

That was not the voice he had expected to hear. His befuddled brain wasn’t able to clear enough for him to voice a question. Not a coherent one, at least.

“How?”

A hand reached forward, brushing his sweaty hair off his forehead. “Do you need something for the pain?” 

Harry shook his head.

“Okay. Go back to sleep. I will be here when you wake up.”

“The… Uh… How?”

“You will be fine,” was the evasive answer, but Harry was too tired to ask for details. A hand firmly grasped his, and Harry hugged the arm attached to it to his chest before he gave in to the darkness.

\--

“Harry? Come on, open your eyes. I know you are awake,” a voice coaxed. Unfortunately, it still wasn’t the one of the person he had expected to find at his side at that moment.

He tried to roll to his other side, but two hands, reaching for him, prevented that plan.

“No, no hiding. Come on, it is time to return to the living.”

“Sod off,” Harry muttered as politely as he could.

“I regret to tell you that that is not possible. I promised him I would stay with you and I intend to keep my word.”

“Hmm…”

“How are you feeling?”

“Hah hah,” Harry muttered bitterly. 

“That was not supposed to be funny,” was the gentle rebuke.

“I’m bleeding.” Merlin, but it was a weird feeling. And it was even weirder to admit it.

Thankfully, his admission gained him no derision. Instead there was understanding and a hint of pity. 

“That was to be expected, Harry. Can I see? Or do you want me to get the Healer?”

“You?” What Healer? Where was Madam Pomfrey? Harry looked around but didn’t recognize the room. “Uh, we’re not in the hospital wing,” he noted, feeling stupid.

“Oh, Harry… No, we are not at Hogwarts. Do you remember what happened?”

“Yes, sure…um…” He wearily rubbed his forehead. Of course he knew how he had ended up in a hospital bed, hurting and overemotional. He had just forgotten about the details momentarily. Oh… “Is it gone?”

“Yes. I am so sorry.”

The whole situation was surreal. A few years ago, Harry would have personally taken anyone deeming it possible to the Janus Thickey Ward. He had just lost his child and the person keeping vigil at his bedside was Severus Snape.

But why was he here instead of Harry’s partner?

“Harry? About the bleeding you mentioned…”

Harry listened only half-heartedly to what he was saying and even that shocked him. The man couldn’t be serious, could he? What was he supposed to do? Throw the covers aside and… Merlin. Harry shuddered at the mere thought. _But he’s here to help you_ , a voice inside his head told him.

“Okay,” he muttered and tried to shift into a more straight position before he reluctantly let go of the blanket he’d been holding to his chest. 

A hand on his blanket-covered hip stopped him. “Do not hurt yourself. It is fine,” Severus reassured him. 

Uh, Severus? Snape? Oh, right. It was Severus nowadays and it had been for quite some time. Apparently, he was still pretty out of it, failing to remember important facts.

The positive effect of his woozy thoughts was that, by the time his head stopped spinning, Severus was already spreading the blanket over him once more.

“It might feel differently to you, but there is not enough blood to raise concern. The bleeding will not stop for a few days, though.” Severus sighed. “While you are still in bed, we are going to keep the cloth between your legs. Later on, you might want to try using a sanitary towel.”

Harry goggled. “What am I? A woman?”

“No,” the man replied patiently.

“Then spell it closed. The wound. Or whatever it is that’s bleeding,” Harry demanded in a panicky tone. He couldn’t use a sanitary towel! He’d never hear the end of it.

Resuming his seat beside Harry’s bed, Severus once more reached for his hand. “Now, listen to me. There is only so much magic can do, and this is something your body must deal with on its own accord. Healers cannot work miracles, as you know quite well; otherwise we would all live forever and never suffer any ailment. Sadly, that is not the case.”

“But…” Harry’s face crumpled. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Everything had gone pear-shaped within three short days, and it was hardly fair.

“I know,” Severus said and gave his hand a squeeze. When tears started falling down his face, Severus bent over him and pressed a kiss on his forehead, allowing Harry to cling to him as he started to sob.

Eventually, Harry had managed to stop the tears and released his grip on Severus’ robes, appreciating the fact that he hadn’t sat back down yet, instead remaining bent over him. Severus cradled Harry’s head in one hand, using his other alternately to brace himself and wipe away a few stray tears that kept running down Harry’s cheeks now and again.

“Better?” Severus asked softly.

Harry sniffled in response. 

“Do you want to know any specifics?”

“Hmm? Details? I don’t want them,” Harry croaked, his throat raw from his crying fit.

“Yes, that is what I meant. It is all right, there is no need to talk about that now. – Water?” Severus straightened himself up, already reaching for the jug of water, standing close by on a little table, and filling the class situated beside it. He helped Harry to raise his head from the cushion and helped him drink.

“Thank you,” Harry sunk back. He fought with himself and then he asked tentatively, “Where is he?”

“Most certainly driving his parents insane and wearing a path into the floor of the waiting room,” Severus replied, perching beside Harry on the narrow bed.

“Didn’t he want to see me?” Harry almost hadn’t asked this because he was scared of the answer.

“Oh child…” The older man sighed. “Of course he did. Part of him wanted to stay with you during the procedure, but on the other hand, he was terrified of the whole situation. We decided that it was best for him to stay in his parents’ care and for me to stick by your side. I can go fetch him for you now, if you feel up to it,” Severus offered.

When had they found the time to decide that? Harry figured he must have been really out of it.

“You did? Stay the whole time?” Another question he not really wanted answered. That was becoming a habit.

“I did.”

Fortunately, Severus still refrained from telling him what he had witnessed or rather, how much he had seen. One day, Harry vowed, he’d find the courage to ask how it was done. For the moment, he’d rather stay ignorant.

Now to decide if he wanted to see Draco… Well, yes, of course, was his first notion, but then he really thought about it. Draco would come in, take one glance at him and he’d start crying his eyes out. Draco would follow his example, if he hadn’t been already crying the moment he entered the room, and they’d be no help to each other.

“Later. Soon,” he said before he shut his eyes again, trusting that Severus would pick up on what he had been talking about.

\--


	9. Chapter 9

The next time he woke, it didn’t take Harry that long to orient himself. He recalled almost instantly where he was and why he was there. He also almost instantly wished he could forget.

When his eyes had adjusted to the dim light, he noticed that Severus was no longer occupying the seat beside the bed. Moving his head carefully, he also couldn’t see him anywhere else in the room.

Wonderful. He was all alone and his abdomen hurt like hell. Harry groaned. He shifted carefully, trying to find a more comfortable position, but without success. All that the movement had gained him was the feeling of another bout of blood trickling out of him. 

Disgusting.

And scary. Really scary.

Before he had managed to persuade himself to call out for help, the door creaked open and Severus slipped in.

“Oh, you are awake. I apologize, I had to step out for a moment,” he said, stepping closer. “How is the pain? Do you need something?”

“Please,” Harry whispered, hating himself for the weakness he was displaying. 

Severus didn’t comment but produced one of the by now familiar vials, helping him drink it. Then he resumed his earlier seat and waited. For what, Harry didn’t know, but he found that he didn’t mind the company. Everything was less scary when Severus was by his side, he thought. 

Fortunately, the potion kicked in swiftly and the pain receded to a more bearable level. Harry relaxed a bit.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Harry?” Severus offered. “Something to drink, perhaps?”

Harry shook his head minutely. He was afraid of drinking too much and having to go to the bathroom. Because he really thought that there was no way he was up to leaving this bed anytime soon.

“Are you certain? I am a bit concerned about you getting too little liquids that way.”

Harry stared at him dumbly. Too little liquids? It wasn’t like he’d been lying here forever, was it. 

“You need it, Harry, believe me. But fortunately I know how to spell some directly into your body.” Severus reached for his wand. “Do not worry. I also know how to empty your bladder magically. You will not be required to walk.”

Harry released the breath he had been holding before he asked, “Can I have a glass of water? I know I declined--”

“Of course.” 

As Severus poured the water, Harry wondered how long it would take the man until he lost his patience with Harry.

Unfortunately, Harry’s stomach rebelled soon after he had drunk the water and Severus barely managed to summon a kidney dish in time to thrust it under Harry’s nose.

“Sorry…” Harry whimpered, holding his stomach. Another bout of queasiness made him bend lower over the basin and retch pityingly.

Severus made a few soothing noises and steadied his hands. The kidney basin was dangerously full already but before he was able to mention it, Severus had banished the contents.

“Better?”

“Hmm…” Harry didn’t dare nodding and he also didn’t dare to lie back down again even though there was nothing he’d love more.

“Do you need a potion?” Severus offered, eventually prying the kidney dish out of his hands when Harry hadn’t retched again for a few minutes.

“No… But something to eat would be wonderful.”

Severus chuckled. “I think it would be better if we waited a little longer. Your stomach probably feels like it is digesting itself, but try keeping a glass of water down beforehand, please.”

Harry sighed unhappily. He knew he would be denied and intellectually he also knew that Severus was right. There was no point in eating something if it ended up in the kidney dish or on his covers moments later.

“Do you want to keep sitting upright?” Severus already had three or four pillows in his hands, poised to stuff them between Harry’s back and the headboard. At his nod, he worked efficiently and had him comfortable within moments.

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

Harry didn’t reply. He was thinking of Draco and wondered how he was holding up. It must be hard for him, not being allowed to see Harry and being put off all the time. He made up his mind and asked Severus to send him in.

The older man got up immediately. “Certainly. Do you want me to accompany him or would you prefer to be alone? I would, of course, stay close at hand.”

“Just send him in, please.”

Severus inclined his head and slipped out of the door.

The instant that he was gone, Harry wanted to call him back, telling him that he had changed his mind. But that would be cruel to Draco and if he wanted to continue their relationship, he had to face him sooner or later. He had to stop being such a baby, he admonished himself. That thought made him tear up and he had to swallow hard.

Before he had been able to pull himself together, the door opened and admitted Draco. He looked ill. Dark smudges under his bloodshot eyes, the hair lank and unkempt. Harry figured it was safe to say that Draco hadn’t eaten since the day before and probably not slept for more than a few minutes at a time.

Draco closed the door behind him but didn’t move farther into the room, glancing at Harry but lowering his gaze when his eyes met Harry’s.

“Draco…” Suddenly, everything was too much. His partner was afraid to look at him, Harry hurt all over and he just couldn’t be strong anymore. His face crumpled and he put his head in his hands. “I’m sorry.”

That comment jerked Draco into action and with a few long strides he was at Harry’s side. 

“Don’t say that! There’s nothing you have to apologize for. _I_ am sorry! If I hadn’t been so persistent yesterday, maybe--”

“No, it’s got nothing to do with that, okay?” Harry wasn’t stupid. Draco was not to blame. If anyone was guilty, it was him. He hadn’t been able to keep their baby safe. “I should have taken the pregnancy more serious. Maybe the potion would have helped.”

One hand cupped his chin and Harry’s face was lifted to meet Draco’s eyes. “What potion? The Facresentum? But if it had been a boy, it could have harmed him.”

“Could we find out?”

“The gender? I believe they will know, yes.” Draco paused. “Do you want me to ask?”

Harry nodded.

“Don’t you think it will be even harder once you know? Apart from that, we really couldn’t have done anything different,” he tried to reason, but Harry knew that he only wanted to help.

“Please ask.”

“Severus!” Draco called and, as promised, he entered the room almost instantly. “Did they mention the gender of the baby?”

The older wizard looked like he had bitten into a lemon, he appeared decidedly unhappy with the question.

“Please, we have to know,” Harry pleaded. If the baby had been female, at least he would know that he had risked her life needlessly. He could have curbed his selfish urges a little longer, and then got over his pride and swallowed the bloody potion. A little indisposition wouldn’t have been too high a price to pay. Why the hell had he assumed that, just because he was Harry Potter, nothing would be able to touch his child? Stupid. Ignorant! He should have waited for Hermione to present her results and not assumed that everything would be all right.

“Well, obviously I cannot deny you that knowledge,” Severus began, still not looking at them. “It was female.”

A wail pierced the room but Harry was unable to comprehend that it was him. Arms wrapped around him, his face being pressed against a solid chest. The hands seemed to be everywhere, on his back, running through his hair. Gods, but he felt so guilty. He had killed her. Their little girl…

A potion was pushed into his hand and when he failed to acknowledge it, it disappeared again and it didn’t take him long to feel considerably calmer. He found Draco sitting beside him on the bed, pressed close to his side. Severus was perched on the end of the bed, a vial still in his hand.

“Better?”

Harry sniffed in response.

“Harry, please believe me when I say that you did nothing wrong. One harmless fight between lovers does not kill a baby. I told Draco repeatedly and he is still unwilling to believe me. So let me repeat everything else I told him.

“There was no way to know the gender while the child was still in the womb. You would have had waited weeks, if not months, longer. Apart from that, I do think that your child would not need it. Even if it needed it, it might have harmed it because your body does not tolerate it. So, we are back to square one. No Facresentum Potion for you, Harry, no matter what.

“I remained in contact with Mrs Weasley, born Granger, and her results show clearly that there is no actual proof for the effectiveness of the potion concerning blood relatives. Maybe there never was a need for Narcissa to take it. Your father avoiding to touch you was meant to keep you safe, but it, also quite effectively, I might add, ruined your childhood,” Severus said, ignoring Draco’s gasp. “Please remember that the touch could have been limited to mere seconds to get a reliable result. You or your mother’s magic would not have been affected to a level you would have even noticed it.”

Harry blinked. He had heard everything Severus had told them, but he had a hard time processing it. His confusion must have shown, because Severus shook his head.

“Let us end this discussion here. It’s fruitless and, at this moment, will not help anyone.”

“Do you really think it’s just been bad luck?” 

“Draco… Yes, it looks that way. The foetus was healthy and from all I can see, none of you did anything wrong. Seriously. You may talk to Healer Jones if you do not believe me.”

\--

They did talk to the Healer and were basically told the same. Apparently, most of the times, an early abort was caused by a spontaneously occurring genetic problem, but, sometimes, it just happened without an explanation. For Harry, that was the hardest part to accept, because, in his opinion, that didn’t bode well for the future.

After Harry had been discharged from the hospital, he returned home to his country house. He wasn’t up to seeing anyone and, therefore, Hogwarts was out of the question and he also didn’t want to see Grimmauld Place again so soon. After all, that was where he had lived through that nightmare.

Of course, they hadn’t been able to keep it a secret forever and on the second day when he was home, the Floo calls had started to pick up in frequency. Everybody had some kind of comfort and advice to offer. 

What had happened was normal since three thirds of all pregnancies ended in a miscarriage. Besides, it probably was for the best. Who knew the real reason? 

It was a pity that it had come to this, but he should look at the bright side: now he knew he could become pregnant. His body now knew what to do and, surely, the next time would end in the birth of a healthy child.

And, his most favourite platitude: he was still young. Great! And? Because he wasn’t old, losing his child was less tragic? And wasn’t that good to know…

After listening to the same drivel the tenth time, Harry closed the Floo and warded his home against unwelcome guests. How did they know what the future would bring? Why should it have been for the best? Did they mean he deserved it? Then why was Severus spending hours on end telling him that it had been nothing but a tragic coincidence?

Worst of all, the most ‘understanding’ reactions had come from lucky parents or soon-to-be parents, and Harry had wanted to smash their heads in. They couldn’t relate to his feelings, could they? He had waited so long for this child and now he had lost it. Why should he take comfort in the fact that other people went through the same? And besides, it was easy to say so when you, like Mrs Weasley, had born seven perfectly healthy children. While she had lost Fred a few years ago, Harry doubted that it was the same. In a way, it was worse, but, in his opinion, that didn’t give her the right to bombard him with unbidden advice.

Mrs Malfoy was another person he would like to ban from his life. She had expressed her regret, but then she had the nerve to go on and on how tragic it was to lose her first grandchild that way. After all, hadn’t she waited patiently all this time? Patiently! Harry wanted to stuff her stupid, mindless comments down her throat. Forget the mourning parents, please pity the suffering grandmother! Heck, she hadn’t even known of the child’s existence until it was too late, so how could she claim she was missing it?

As the weeks went on, Harry dreaded to see Hermione. A little bump was visible under her robes and watching it grow broke his heart. He didn’t begrudge her the happiness, however, it was hard to witness. Her obvious commiseration didn’t make it easier. 

Also, she never failed to ask him how Draco was doing and every time, if he was honest, Harry wasn’t able to answer her question. It wasn’t like they didn’t talk anymore. They did. But Harry couldn’t shake the thought that Draco tried to protect him by not telling him honestly how he felt. If he was talking to his parents or someone else, Harry didn’t know. And it bothered him when Hermione stressed the importance of opening up to someone after such a blow – not only because of Draco, but also because of himself. Even though he was spending time with her, Harry kept most of his feelings and thoughts to himself. Of course, that was nobody’s fault but his own. Well, that knowledge didn’t change a thing.

\--

One night, Ron and Hermione had invited themselves for dinner. They made a real effort to find other topics to discuss, but when Ron reached for his wife’s protruding belly under the table, Harry bolted to the bathroom and was violently sick. When he came back, everyone was subdued and their guests excused themselves at the first possible opportunity.

“Harry, don’t take this wrong, but I’m actually worried about you,” Draco announced when they were gone. He had retired to the couch, balancing a tumble of cognac on his knees.

Harry sniffed. Pouring himself a drink as well, he joined Draco in front of the fire, but chose an armchair opposite him instead of seating himself in his usual place.

“And now you’re mad at me for giving words to my concern. Why am I not surprised?”

Shrugging, Harry downed most of his drink. He didn’t know why he was so irate. It wasn’t like he wanted to be that way or liked himself like that. He couldn’t explain it and that annoyed him even more.

“You do know that they will understand if you ask them to keep their distance for the time being?”

“Probably. But they’re also my best friends.”

“Yes, they are,” Draco amended. “But they don’t want to torture you by flaunting their happiness in your face. If you’re feeling better not seeing them for a while, no one would think any less of you. Especially not the two of them.”

“Have you seen your parents lately?” Harry asked, deliberately changing the topic. Talking about Hermione and Ron was too depressing. Moreover, he didn’t want to fight with Draco, which they would undoubtedly do sooner or later if they stayed on that course.

“I… Yes, three days ago. But you know that,” Draco replied, clearly confused. He set his glass aside and leaned forwards in his seat. “Have you and Mother had another altercation? She didn’t even ask how you were and seemed a bit put out when Father mentioned your name during our conversation.”

“No, not lately,” Harry answered truthfully.

“But?”

“But nothing.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “What did she say and how did you react?”

Sometimes that man was too perceptive for his own good, Harry thought. “Nothing you haven’t heard yourself. So, is she still mourning that precious, innocent life? Has she also mentioned how cruel it was to simply tell her of her grandchild’s death without giving her a fair warning? It’s been the worst shock of her life. Never mind the war and being married to an active Death Eater…” Harry sneered, unable to suppress his frustration anymore.

Gaping, Draco got up and walked around the table, perching on the armrest beside Harry. “That’s what she told you?”

Harry gave a mirthless chuckle. “Oh yes. Of course she was thoughtful enough to elaborate so I was actually able to understand her grief.”

Draco rolled his eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry. When did she visit here?”

“Huh! When did she _not_?”

“Let me guess. You kicked her out eventually?”

“Are you saying I shouldn’t have?” Harry snapped, sitting upright. One wrong word out of Draco now and they would have the mother of all fights. His patience had been wearing thin and, sooner or later, he would explode. 

“I am really sorry, Harry. When I told them, she just said how sorry she was and then she left me alone with Father to sort out the details. Not to come to her defence, but I think it reminds her of her past, you know? When she had similar trouble getting pregnant...”

Harry snorted. “Great. So you expect me to pull myself together and support her? Because we all know the hard time she has, coming to terms with the unexpected loss,” he spat, eyes blazing.

“Merlin, no!” Draco exclaimed. “I’m just saying. She’s not acting that way because she’s a callous bitch, on the contrary. However, of course we’re going to make sure that your paths don’t cross in the foreseeable future.”

Harry sagged against Draco’s side. “I hate this.”

“Me too.” Wrapping an arm around Harry’s shoulder, Draco rested his chin on Harry’s head. Together, they stared into the flames until their gazes blurred.

\--

Returning to teaching had been awfully hard for Harry. It was not that he didn’t like his job per se; it was that he had pictured himself returning to Hogwarts with a baby in his arms, not feeling empty and betrayed. Draco had offered to accompany him but Harry had declined, arguing that he needed to get back some of his self-reliance. In the end, Draco had agreed and went to visit his father. For some reason, they seemed to be getting closer. While Harry was happy that he had found a reason to give it a miss, he didn’t begrudge Draco the chance of bonding with one of his parents.

Peeking into his office, he noted that everything looked neat and in place. A large stack of parchment was waiting on the desk for his perusal, possibly the marked tests Severus had told him about. He had suggested that he wouldn’t hand them out before Harry had the opportunity to go through them, familiarizing himself with his students’ state of knowledge. Considering that he had been away for weeks, he appreciated the notion. He would skim through them…but not tonight.

Closing the door, Harry turned around and promptly crashed into Severus.

“Sh-- I’m sorry!” he stammered when he heard and saw lots of parchment tumble to the floor, scattering all around them.

“Hmm… No matter, it only took me three hours to correct them. Sorting them should be quicker,” Severus muttered, his wand snapping into his hand. He summoned the papers and opened the door with a flick of his wand. 

“I could help,” Harry offered timidly, aware that it was his work that had kept the other wizard busy. Of course he would have his own lessons and marking in order on a Sunday night.

Severus inclined his head and gestured to Harry to enter in front of him. Nodding towards the desk, he said, “Sit. I’ll take one of the tables.”

“Oh Merlin, no!” Harry disagreed. That would be too weird, him sitting at the front behind the desk and Severus occupying a student’s place.

The raised eyebrow and toned down glare told him not to push it and so Harry relented. He still cowed when Severus was looking at him like that; it was ingrained into his very being. Fortunately, he hadn’t been treated to the famous death-glare or he would have had a hard time to keep his composure.

Dividing the stack of parchment into two equal parts, Severus immediately began working on his. After a few moments, Harry followed suit.

“I heard you are avoiding your in-laws,” Severus commented after a while.

Harry looked up, frowning. “Did she complain?”

“Ah, so Narcissa is the problem?”

He would have done well to remember whom he was talking to, Harry rebuked himself sharply, before he said nonchalantly, “There is no problem.”

“If you say so,” Severus replied lightly but Harry knew it was a fake. Now that he was aware that he had been informed right, he’d never give up until he knew every sordid little detail. That man was worse than a bloodhound when he dedicated himself to a cause. It’s what made him such a formidable spy. It was also the reason why, at the moment, Harry regretted ever allowing trust to establish itself between them. Without it, Severus wouldn’t have asked in the first place.

Refocusing his attention on the assignments in front of him, Harry not only tried to get the parchments into some kind of order, he also read the comments Severus had added. While he was still not holding back with his disgust at his students’ meagre efforts, he had come a long way from the derisive notes that had littered Harry’s Potions exams.

“Were you in a hurry when you marked these?”

“Take a moment for your mind to catch up with the question, Harry. I’m confident that you’ll be able to come up with the correct response.”

Well, maybe he hadn’t mellowed so much after all, Harry mused.

“I take it you’re through with yours?” Severus got up and joined him at the desk, placing two stacks in front of him. “These are the complete ones,” he pointed to the right, “and these are the ones missing one or more parts. Really, what’s wrong with using long rolls of parchment? At least you couldn’t misplace parts of your work back then. Not that it is a shame in all of these cases, mind you.”

Harry chuckled. That comment had to be expected. 

“I find it rather tragic,” Severus said, a bit of his usual snarl in his tone. “All right. Let’s see what you have.”

Harry hadn’t separated them in complete and missing, but it took Severus mere minutes to puzzle them all together. “Now that we are done here, would you care for some tea…or firewhiskey?”

Since he doubted he would be able to fall asleep anytime soon, even if he tried, Harry agreed despite his better knowledge. Maybe he should have taken Draco with him after all, because then he wouldn’t be tempted to follow Severus to his quarters.

They settled in front of the fire, Severus sipping tea and Harry nursing a glass of Blishen’s Firewhisky. He shouldn’t have accepted it, he should have insisted on tea. Rationally, he had been aware of that, but sometimes he tended to speak before thinking and when he had come to his senses, it had been too late to change his mind.

“How are you keeping up?” Severus asked quietly, averting his gaze.

Harry winced. Why did everyone ask him the same question? In his opinion, the answer was obvious enough.

“Okay.”

“It’s hard to settle back into your daily routine, isn’t it?”

Well, yes. But considering the way he had voiced it, Severus was already aware of that. Who would’ve thought? Harry grunted his assent.

What followed was a long pause. Sometimes, even Severus didn’t seem to know what to say anymore. 

“You’re going to teach all of your lessons?”

Snorting, Harry nodded. “Yes. It’s not like I have a reason not to do that.”

“That’s not how I meant it. I was wondering if you wanted to start slow.”

“No. I don’t want to start at all, but life’s a bitch and we have to cope, whether we want to or not.”

“I can imagine.”

“Can you?” Harry snapped, his frustration getting the better of him. He had thought at least Severus would spare him the usual platitudes.

“Unfortunately, yes.” The man wasn’t easily riled that night which was quite unusual. Harry recalled situations where Severus had almost gutted him for minor crimes.

Harry was unable to read Severus’ expression and years of experience with that man’s stony countenance led him to accept his incapability. 

“How did classes go?” he asked after another pause.

“I didn’t ask you here to discuss work.”

He didn’t? “Oh. Okay. Well…”

“How are you doing health-wise?”

“Um, all right, I guess,” Harry replied, hoping against hope that the answer would satisfy. 

He got a raised eyebrow in response. So it did not. Not that it surprised him.

“The bleeding stopped sometime ago, if that’s what you were talking about,” Harry offered after a moment. Really, what did Severus expect? While he had been a huge help that day of the surgery, he hadn’t seen much of him afterwards. Until tonight, that was.

Severus sighed. “That’s good to hear.”

“Well, it wasn’t that bad once I got used to those hellish things. How woman cope with them regularly, I’ll never know.”

“There are other solutions, but in your case using something else wasn’t an option,” Severus said, taking another sip of his tea. When he pointedly looked at Harry’s glass, he dutifully downed the rest of its contents, almost sputtering from the burn in his throat.

“Like I said, I got used to it. Somehow. But it certainly helped that I knew what was going on, you know? I believe that most things use their lose most of their horror when you know about them,” Harry mused, smiling briefly when his glass got filled once more. The alcohol made it easier to talk about his feelings, he noted. “I remember how terrified I was back in eighth year: I almost fainted when I saw the blood. Granted, it’s been a bit more than spotting… Most of it was fresh, red blood, but it wasn’t that much. Not what I’ve seen after the… You know.” Harry couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. Anything that had to do with their child’s death he refused to call by its name.

When he glanced up to see if Severus had understood the allusion, he was met with black eyes boring into him. Harry gulped.

“You’ve been bleeding before?” Severus asked in a tight voice.

“Uh, yes, that one time. It was during exams and my body really hated me. We had sex and it must have been too rough and I didn’t feel so grand for a while. Eventually, it got better, though.”

“Of course it didn’t occur to you to go to the infirmary and seek help?”

“No. Why should it? Most of us had an upset stomach then, it was normal.”

“Possibly,” Severus conceded. “But I’m willing to bet anything that none of your friends was experiencing rectal bleeding.”

Certainly he hadn’t heard that right!

“I’m sorry?”

“No, I apologize. Harry, please help yourself to another drink.” Harry blinked. His glass had just been refilled. Severus was really acting strange. Just now, Harry swore the man was trying to say something but stopped himself time and again until he said, “I have to step out for a moment but I will be back soon. Please wait up for me.” 

Severus had barely finished his sentence before he was gone. He had also said ‘please’. Staring at the glass in his hand, Harry put it aside. Obviously, he already had way too much to drink. Why else would he hallucinating Severus Floo-ing to Malfoy Manor in the middle of their conversation?

Unsure what he was supposed to do, Harry sat back and waited. When he was starting to get bored after five minutes, he stood and perused Severus’ bookshelves. Unfortunately, most of the books at display sounded dreadfully boring to him and he reasoned, since he had already had reached that state, he’d be better off without them.

Briefly, he considered asking the house-elves for something to eat, just to have something to pass the time, but then he decided against it. He could Floo Draco, seeing what he was up to, but unfortunately, Draco was most likely also at Malfoy Manor and Harry had no interest to communicate with the elder Malfoys. There went this idea.

After about half an hour Harry made his way to the door. It was getting late, someone had made him drink too much and tomorrow was supposed to be a busy day for him, resuming his duties.

His hand already on the door handle, Harry paused when the Floo flared to life. Only moments later, it spat out Severus. But to Harry’s utmost surprise, the arrivals didn’t stop there. Draco followed and next was Mr Malfoy. 

“Harry, how kind of you to head my plea and stay,” Severus said, eying Harry’s hand with disapproval. It was obvious to anyone present that he had been about to leave and Harry thought it was completely unnecessary to mention it. Apparently, Severus didn’t share his view.

Ignoring him for the time being, Harry turned to Draco. “Hi. You know I’m always happy to see you, but what are you doing here?”

“Harry…” Draco’s voice was wavering and he went to embrace Harry, not letting him go after a few moments.

“Mr Potter. Good evening,” Malfoy greeted him. His face didn’t betray anything, but Harry thought he had detected some anxiety in his cold grey eyes.

What the hell was going on here? Why had Severus gone and returned with them? Harry wondered if he had missed something vital or if there was simply no way for him to understand.

“Please take a seat.” Severus ushered the young couple towards the couch, selecting an armchair for himself and waving Malfoy to the other one. He was showing remarkable restraint, Harry thought. His heart was leaping into his throat and all Harry could do was stopping himself from panicking. He’d save that for later.

Draco arranged them on the sofa, situating himself close to Harry. As everyone had taken a seat, Severus conjured glasses and summoned the bottle of firewhiskey which Harry declined politely. Not taking no for an answer, Severus poured four glasses and handed them out.

“Well, Harry, I’m sure you’re wondering why I returned with the Malfoys,” Severus started and Harry snorted. No shit. “When you told me about the bleeding and the general feeling of indisposition you experienced a few years ago, it reminded me of something.”

Harry nodded. He hoped Severus was getting to the point soon and also did his best not to rip him apart for telling Malfoy about it. Draco, he could have coped with, but certainly it was none of Malfoy’s business. That man already thought Harry was a wimp, certainly he didn’t need to be handed the proof on a silver platter.

But what irked him the most was that everybody, except him, seemed to understand what Severus was getting at. Besides, it was rather disconcerting to look at their faces. While the older men were able to keep their expressions impassive, Draco appeared increasingly agitated, furthering Harry’s anxiousness.

“Okay, would someone please tell me what’s going on? I hate to be the only one not knowing.” Well, what he hated the most was the fear of the unknown, for he was sure that, whatever it was, had to be serious. “Draco?”

Draco fidgeted beside him. Since he was usually composed, that, combined with that foreboding expression, was rather disturbing. 

“Gods, Harry, it’s… I… Severus and you have something in common and it’s affecting you badly,” Draco revealed miserably. He wasn’t even able to meet Harry’s eyes.

Now Harry felt so much better informed.

“What my son has been trying to tell you,” Malfoy started, and for the first time, Harry found himself actually willing to listen to what he had to say, “Is, that said bleeding was not some random occurrence. It was your first miscarriage.”

How he managed to drop a bombshell like that with no detectable emotion in his voice, Harry would never be able to understand. And then his mind started to process what he’d been told and before he knew it, he was tearing up.

“What?” Harry asked, completely needlessly, since Malfoy’s comment left no room for doubt. But Harry had to say something or he’d burst. Imploding, exploding…it would certainly be messy.

“Harry, you’ve been pregnant before…”

“Thanks, Draco, I already figured that part out all by myself,” Harry snapped. No need to spell it out for him, was there?

“Mr Potter, I suggest you drop that attitude instantly! No one’s been trying to hurt you deliberately, but this is one of the things you need to know and understand.”

“Who asked you?” Harry wanted to throttle him. Greasy git! Severus wasn’t his teacher anymore, so he could keep the reprimands to himself. Besides, Harry had just learned that he had lost more than one child and that man tried to feign understanding. He should save his breath! “And what the hell do you know?”

“Harry!” Draco cried. “For Merlin’s sake, stop!”

“He started it!” Harry objected, indignant, with the same vehemence. 

“Because you asked for it, Mr Potter,” Malfoy intervened. “And I thank you not to interrupt me.” 

Harry closed his mouth again. 

“As I was saying, Severus was about to tell you what he found out. You will soon learn that he indeed knows what he is talking about.” Malfoy cleared his throat and then continued in the same detached tone of voice, “You are hardly the first person to have lost their child.”

For a moment, Harry thought Malfoy was alluding to his own past as Draco had told him about his parents’ difficulties to procreate. Therefore, the next three words came as a real shock.

“Severus lost three.”

And with that, Harry’s heart plummeted to the floor. Any of his desperate tries to apologize was thwarted instantly.

“I am far from finished.” Malfoy’s tone was cutting but somehow, he managed to remain polite. “Within the course of eighteen months, Severus was pregnant three times. Every time, the end was heralded by spotting and this was followed by massive cramping. A visit to St. Mungo’s revealed the reason for his suffering after the second time. And no, he didn’t trust Pomfrey enough to help him then.”

Draco was openly crying by that time and Harry was forced to helplessly watching as he pulled back and curled into a ball beside him, radiating desperation.

Harry couldn’t understand why that news would reduce Draco to such a mess, though he certainly felt awful for Severus.

Unlike Harry, the older wizards seemed to understand where Draco was coming from. Malfoy got up and joined them on the couch, pulling him into his side. Draco calmed almost instantly, when Harry would have expected him to break down at the contact.

Severus, his features carefully schooled into a stony mask, cleared his throat. “What I believe is that the reason for the miscarriages is this.” He leaned forward and brushed Harry’s forehead with his fingertips. “Your scar.”

Irritated, Harry batted the hand away. “What?”

“Your scar is a remainder of the Dark Lord. And though he’s really gone this time, I believe it’s still alive in a way. Maybe active would be a better term to describe it. However, your situation reminded me of my own and the only thing we’ve got in common, is that damnable connection to _him_.”

“But my situation is nothing like yours. It took me ages to become pregnant and, according to what Malfoy said, you never had that particular issue. Besides, how can you be sure that I really had another miscarriage?”

Severus sighed. “If I were you, I wouldn’t want to believe it, too. But considering what you told me, I’m certain. And from what I learned over the years, people who wore the Dark Mark always encountered problems during their pregnancies. Hardly anyone of his followers carried their children to term.”

“So this is the reason why Draco’s an only child?” Harry asked though he wasn’t really interested in the answer. Everything was so confusing and while he was willing to believe Severus about the miscarriage – because it was as likely as was any other explanation, blaming it all on his scar sounded a bit farfetched for his tastes. 

“No. There were other reasons but none of them concern you,” Malfoy said. Looking down at his son’s head resting against his chest, he added, “You might not believe me, but my wife was never marked.”

Harry stopped himself from saying something harsh. Obviously, Malfoy could tell him anything as long as he wasn’t able to check the truth.

“I thought as much.” Malfoy shook his head. “No matter. The point is that Severus is right. While the Mark didn’t feed on our magic like some people liked to put about, probably to discourage new recruits, it messed with our bodies in different ways. Most of the time, if something happened, it caused infertility. Of course, you have to understand that most Death Eaters never noticed a thing.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “It’s ironic when you think about it. He always wanted us to produce an army of offspring and then his own mark prevents the very same thing.”

“How did it affect you?” Harry couldn’t help but ask. 

“Personality changes,” Malfoy replied, his tone making it clear that he wished no further questioning.

“I’m sorry but…” Harry trailed off. When he glanced towards Draco, he was making an effort, sitting up straighter and brushing his tears away. Noting Harry’s gaze on him, he gave a tentative smile.

“Hey.”

“Hi. Are you feeling better?”

“Somewhat.” Draco sniffed. “Harry, please. I know it sounds weird, but why not let them check the scar? Logically, it should be dormant or inactive now that the other part is gone, but what if Severus is right? Maybe there’s a way the stupid thing is messing things up for you and we could end it?”

“Well, of course it’s not terribly attractive, but I won’t let anyone tinker with it without a clear indication that it’s, indeed, still harmful,” Harry decided. Yes, Severus had been incredibly helpful lately, but getting rid of the scar sounded like a daunting, surely messy task…and he wasn’t keen on being the one on the receiving end of the needed efforts.

“The Marks faded to scars after the end of the war,” Malfoy said. “Have you ever wondered why your scar is still as apparent as it’s ever been, Mr Potter?”

“Because it’s a curse scar and no tattoo,” Harry bit out. Stupid Malfoy! Why did he have to act as if he knew everything? Obviously, that wasn’t true at all.

“The Dark Mark is not a ‘tattoo’. It’s a branding, applied by a curse. But this is senseless. I don’t think we’re making any progress.” Nudging Draco to make some room for him to move, he got up. “Thank you for the delightful evening full of insights, but I’m afraid I must take my leave now.”

Draco didn’t look happy upon that announcement, but that was nothing compared to the way Severus’ expression changed. He caught himself almost instantly and schooled his features, but Harry knew what he had seen. He only didn’t understand the implications.

“Of course. I’ll bring you to the fireplace.” Severus stood as well.

“That would be appreciated. Draco, come see me tomorrow. There are a few things I’d like to add to today’s revelations.” Draco nodded and Malfoy inclined his head, looking pleased. “Do yourself a favour and stop thinking too much. All that happened is in the past now and we don’t regret anything. Of course, a less painful turn of events would have been appreciated but nonetheless, I count myself lucky,” he said, his cold grey eyes fixed on Draco. 

“Thank you,” Draco muttered, once more close to tears. What he was thanking his father for, Harry had no idea. 

For a few seconds, Malfoy looked like he was about to say something else, but then he briefly put his hand on Draco’s head before he turned towards Severus, walking away without a backwards glance.

They stopped by the Floo, exchanging a few words in hushed voices.

“Harry? What if I know of a spell to check the magical activity of scars and the likes?” Draco asked quietly and Harry tore his eyes from the two men, standing by the hearth, and focused his attention on him.

“Well, yes. If there is something purely diagnostic, meaning it won’t cause an outcome of any way, it would be stupid not to try it,” he conceded, albeit unwillingly. In his opinion, they were clutching at straws, and as far as Malfoy was concerned, he didn’t even know why he bothered. But since it would help put Draco at peace, he would allow him to cast some useless spell on him and, hopefully, that would be enough to put his worries to rest.

“But you must have a theory why it happened,” Draco pleaded. “There has to be something that makes you wonder if it really was just bad luck. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“If this is about us not having sex since then--” Harry started, growling.

“No!” Draco interrupted instantly. “I’m just worried about you!”

“There’s no need.”

“Sure,” Draco said bitterly. “No need at all.”

“I wasn’t the one breaking down tonight,” Harry reminded him, his tone colder than he wanted it to be.

Before Draco had the chance to reply, the sound of the Floo alerted them to Malfoy’s departure and moments later, Severus appeared in front of them, announcing, “I think it’s time to end this little get-together.”

Draco nodded. “Yes. I’m going to head home.”

Raising one eyebrow, Severus looked from Draco to Harry and back.

“All right. What did I miss?”

“Nothing important. Harry’s a stubborn git but that’s hardly new.”

“Hey!”

Ignoring Harry’s outcry, Severus turned to Draco. “What is it this time?”

“Apparently, he thinks you made up the correlation between the scar and the miscarriages. For what reason I can’t say,” Draco explained, shooting Harry a dirty look.

“Now wait here,” Harry interrupted. “I’m just sick of the solutions everyone likes to present me. I don’t believe that there’s a connection there and yes, I fail to see why you would want it to be there.”

“This is not about what I want. You told me about the bleeding--”

“Because you gave to too much firewhiskey--”

“I didn’t pour it down your throat!” Severus said sharply. “As I was saying, you told me about the bleeding and it reminded me of myself. Since I didn’t want to put idea in your head without being certain, I went and asked Lucius for his opinion. That Draco was their and overheard our conversation was rather unfortunate, but since it was his child as well, I believe he deserved to know about it.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “It wasn’t your story to tell!”

“No, it was not,” Severus admitted readily. “But I didn’t tell it for entertainment’s sake. I was going to get some answers to help you.”

“Knowing that I lost more than one baby is going to help me how?” Harry yelled, currently not caring that he made Draco jump.

“Of course it won’t bring the dead ones, you idiot child. But there’s a chance that it won’t happen again.”

“If it’s been a coincidence like everyone said, it won’t change a thing,” Harry snarled, losing the rest of his patience.

“Yes, that could be. But it also could be that I am right.” Severus folded his arms in front of his chest. “What the hell would it cost you just to give it a try?”

“Because if it’s true then there’s no doubt that it’s my fault that they died!”

“Merlin, Harry…”

Suddenly, breathing became difficult and the last thing he saw were Draco’s eyes, wide with concern. 

\--

Some indefinite time later, Harry woke up again. Opening his eyes, he expected to be blinded by the light of the lamps in Severus’ living room, but found himself surrounded by darkness. Scrambling for his wand, he cast a cautious _Lumos_. 

“Harry?” Draco’s face popped in front of him. “Thank Merlin you’re awake again. You had us worried.”

“What happened?” 

“Um, well… You… I don’t think that’s what is important at the moment. Do you want me to give you another Calming Draught?”

“Another?”

Draco nodded. “Severus already administered a few while you were asleep.”

“More like knocked out, I take it,” Harry said wryly. But he didn’t blame the Potions master for his actions as, by now, he vaguely remembered hyperventilating.

“Well…”

“I’m not mad, don’t worry. And no, I don’t think I need another one,” Harry said, inwardly hoping that he was right. He didn’t like freaking out and he liked it even less if he had witnesses. Thank Merlin at least Malfoy hadn’t been present for that little episode.

“Okay. How are you?”

Harry shrugged. “Fine. A bit woozy… How are you?” He asked when he remembered that he hadn’t been the only one breaking down that night.

“Good,” Draco said, sounding a little insecure. “Good.” This time he was more convinced. “I’m glad my father was here, though.”

Harry blinked. He couldn’t help being somewhat taken aback. Shouldn’t he be the one Draco went to when he was sad or upset?

“Don’t give me that look. Remember how you told me that I have this calming effect on you? My father does the same for me. I can’t explain it, just like you, but since he’s allowed to touch me, I’ve noticed it repeatedly. Without him, I would have torn the hospital apart while you had this bloody surgery,” Draco admitted, instantly adding an apology. “I didn’t want to mention it. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay.” Damn. He should have taken the time and asked Draco how he had survived those hours. Now he felt like the worst boyfriend in the world.

“And you can stop blaming yourself this instant!”

Harry harrumphed. He sat up and took a look around. “Where is he?”

“Malfoy Manor.”

“Again?” Harry frowned. He hadn’t known that Severus and Malfoy were close friends, if anything, maybe acquaintances. After all, Malfoy had been a real Death Eater and not a spy like Severus.

“Yes, again,” Draco said with a hint of threat in his tone. Apparently, Harry wasn’t welcome to question the man’s motives. 

“Thanks for staying with me,” Harry said eventually. He had wanted to ask a lot of things, but highly doubted that he should voice any of them.

Draco leaned forward and kissed him lightly. “Of course. No one would have been able to keep me away.”

He joined Harry, how pushed himself to a sitting position, on the couch and, for a few moments, they just stared at the flickering lights of the lamps on the wall.

“You know, I think it is admirable how you manage to keep your curiosity in check. I would have imploded by now,” Draco stated slowly.

“Hmm?” Harry tore his gaze of his lamp and turned towards the blond.

“You never badgered me for details regarding tonight’s revelations.”

Harry held his breath. Not having said anything certainly didn’t mean that he wasn’t interested – on the contrary. But he remained quiet.

“Severus came to speak to Father. They must have talked a while already until I returned to the living room. I’ve went to talk to Mother who was feeling unwell and had retired to her rooms.” Well, the obvious question would be what Draco meant by ‘her rooms’. Didn’t she share a bedroom with Malfoy? But with Herculean effort, Harry bit back his question and forced himself to listen. “…so when I heard them talking about Severus’ children, I was shocked. Before I could make them aware of my presence, Severus said that he was sorry.”

“What for?” Harry asked when Draco paused.

“They were also my father’s.”

For the second time within a few short hours, Harry’s jaw dropped to the floor. “Huh?”

“Well, since Severus is no creature, obviously he needed one to impregnate him. And Father’s a Furattactus, so…” Draco sighed. “They only started having sex when Severus was of age. Father’s a few years older than him and he never wanted to have sex with children, as he put it.”

Harry was flabbergasted. The last comment alone was enough to make him gape, he had always had a different opinion of the man, but obviously, that was not what was important at the moment. “So, since he’s been an adult, he was already bearing the mark?”

Draco nodded. “Yes. And he should not only have carried the children to term, he should also have become pregnant right away. That’s why he believes that he’s right about his suspicions concerning your scar.”

“Wait a second. They wanted him to become pregnant?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Of course they did. My grandfather demanded an heir.”

“But… He would have accepted Severus into the family?” Harry could hardly believe it. “He’s just a half-blood.”

“With an heir, he would have agreed, albeit grudgingly. Maybe he would have tried to blackmail Father into entering some fake relationship for the general public. But since it was not to be, my father was ‘asked’ to marry my mother. Imagine my grandfather’s annoyance when it took her ages to bear him the wanted heir,” Draco said, clearly unbothered.

“But… You wouldn’t even be alive!”

“Yes, I would. I might look different, but I strongly believe that I would have made my way in this world one way or other,” Draco reasoned. “And I would have had siblings.”

So that was what had made him cry? He had been mourning his older siblings? Harry didn’t quite know what to say. Then another thought occurred to him.

“Are they still together now?”

“Severus and my father? No. They agreed that it wouldn’t be fair to my mother and, besides, Severus never wanted to be anyone’s sordid little affair.”

Harry nodded. He also couldn’t imagine him agreeing to that. But on the other hand, instead of having any claim on Malfoy, he had to watch him starting a family with someone else. That didn’t sound funny at all.

“He would have been your dad,” Harry said in wonder, shaking his head.

“It could have been worse, don’t you think?”

\--

They hadn’t performed the spell that night. Instead, they talked until their eyes drooped and they fell asleep in a heap on the sofa. Upon waking the following morning, Harry discovered that Severus must have returned eventually, since their makeshift bed was magically enlarged so they were able to rest comfortably side by side.

He stretched and rolled over until he collided with Draco. Curling himself around Draco, he yawned and closed his eyes again. He was about to fall asleep once more when he jerked upright.

“Fuck!” How late was it? Had he missed only breakfast in the Great Hall or the first classes of the day as well?

Draco muttered something into his pillow, sounding disgruntled. 

“Wake up,” Harry urged. “You have a job, too, don’t you?”

“What?”

“We overslept!”

“Uh. No, I don’t think so. Severus would have kicked us out of bed if it were late,” Draco said, unconcerned. Then he blinked. “Well, at least I think so. Has he even come back?”

“Who do you think transfigured the sofa?”

“Oh. Okay. Well, then everything’s all right. That man doesn’t know how to oversleep. And he’s never let me lay in. Don’t worry about being late on your first day.” Draco turned around and soon, Harry could hear his breath slowing down. Who fell asleep within mere seconds?

Sniffing, Harry got up anyway. He might as well take a shower now and change into some clean clothes. Stepping in front of his students wearing yesterday’s clothes wouldn’t do. Letting himself out of Severus’ quarters, he quickly went to his own and proceeded getting ready for the day ahead. Only then did he cast a quick spell to check the time.

“Fuck…”

Well, he had said that before. But what else was he supposed to say? It was half past five in the morning and he was showered and dressed and most likely the only human being in the whole castle who was already awake. Wonderful.

\--

Neville swallowed repeatedly, trying to get his Butterbeer down instead of spitting it all over the table. When he had succeeded, he asked, “Did I just get this right? You-know-who managed to mess your life up from beyond the grave?”

Harry nodded sombrely. “Yes. Some of his magic is still active inside the scar – Merlin knows how that is possible, and now Severus and Hermione are devoting their lives to research, trying to find a way to get rid of it once and for all.”

“Hermione?” Neville smiled. “How is she? Isn’t she too pregnant to work this hard?”

“That’s what Ron tells her ten times a day. She claims that, since she’s not doing anything but sit on her butt and read whatever Severus drops in front of her, it will be all right. She promised him to stop when the contractions are regular and every five minutes.” Seeing Neville sputtering, Harry chuckled. “No, she’s not that far along. There are still a few weeks left until the birth.”

“Yes, I knew that – somehow. You’re evil. And you owe me one Butterbeer.”

“Because of the three drops you spit on me?” Harry asked, laughing. Then he held his sleeve out to Neville. “Here. You’re welcome to take what’s yours.”

Rolling his eyes, Neville batted his arm away. “No, thank you. – And now back to the topic at hand.” When Harry nodded, he continued, “So they cast this spell and found some magical residue?”

“Draco did. And yes, that’s what he told me. Severus did a few tests, as well. Pomfrey, too. Not to mention Hermione.”

“Let me guess. Everyone did the same, wanting to see the result for themselves?” Neville asked knowingly. 

“What do you think?”

“Of course.” Neville sighed. After he had secured himself another drink, he settled back in his seat across from Harry. “Right. And what do they hope to find? Some charm? A curse to exorcise ‘him’? Or maybe a potion?”

“A combination of everything,” Harry replied. “At least, this is what they’re searching for.”

“Do you want me to check my books? Maybe there’s a plant or something that might help?” Neville offered. “You know, sometime you just have to pick a comparatively unknown part of the plant or harvest it at a particular time, using just the right knife.”

“You sound like Severus. But, honestly, if you would have a look at your texts and maybe confer with Severus, I’d appreciate it very much.”

Neville flinched. “Snape. Um, well…”

“He’s not so bad. And he’s going to respect you for your knowledge,” Harry reassured him, taking another sip of his drink. “Besides, I never told you, but he’s been a huge help during the you-know-what.”

“Still can’t say it, can you?” Neville asked, frowning.

Harry narrowed his eyes but didn’t answer. What was he supposed to say anyways?

“He knew?” Neville wanted to know eventually.

“Yes. He was with McGonagall when Draco told her that I had to give up teaching altogether. And then, when it happened, Draco fire-called him because we didn’t know how to get me to St. Mungo’s. He was also the one to cast the spell to check--I’m sorry, Neville; this is not my favourite topic.”

Neville inclined his head in understanding. “So he refrained from being his usual unpleasant self then?”

“He was great. But, if you can’t bring yourself to contact him…would you mind informing Draco, should you find something out?”

“Draco’s no problem,” Neville hastened to say. “But isn’t he working together with Snape?”

“Not really, no. He’s not the one to excel in research and inventions and so he’s put his own business on hold and stepped in for Severus at Hogwarts, allowing him to focus fully on a solution for us.”

“Snape lets him?” Neville sounded surprised.

Harry shrugged, not understanding. “Sure. He’s been his apprentice. If he didn’t trust Draco with his students, who else would he allow into his classroom?”

“Well,” Neville said cautiously, “he must have really changed over the years. However, considering he helped you out before, that seems to be a given.”

“He has changed. That and I think that until after the war, he never had allowed anyone to see this other side of him.” Harry knew he was lying. But there was no way that he would tell Neville or anyone about Severus’ children and the relationship he must have had with Malfoy.

“Still, I’d prefer talking to Draco. When he deems my eventual information worthy, he can always pass them along.” Neville scratched his head. “I should say ‘if’.”

“Yeah…” Harry rolled his eyes. No matter what Neville would achieve in his life, he would never learn to believe in his own abilities. What had happened to the plans he had made all those years ago, Harry asked himself. He distinctly remembered having thought about how to help his friend. Too bad he never got along to put anything into practice. “Do you want another drink?”

“Hmm. One more won’t hurt,” Neville decided. “But then I should get going. Since Hannah agreed to close the shop tonight so we could meet, I’m obliged to be the one to open it tomorrow. She’s going to meet with Ginny and Susan for breakfast.”

Ginny… Though he hadn’t heard much about her lately, probably because Hermione and Ron didn’t want to torture him with tales of happy parents, Harry knew that she was still in her on again, off again relationship with Graham. A few months ago it had looked like they had split up for all eternity, but eternity hadn’t lasted longer than a few weeks. Since then, one needed a daily update to keep up with their current status.

“Tell Hannah I said hi and please ask her to relay the same to the girls.”

“Of course,” Neville said. “Do you want me to get the next round?”

“No, that’s my turn.” Harry stood and went to the bar, soon returning with another Butterbeer for Neville and a firewhiskey for himself. “Cheers.”

Neville raised his glass dutifully. “I’m terribly behind,” he noted when they put the glasses back down. 

“Actually, you’re one drink ahead,” Harry smirked.

“Butterbeer,” Neville defended himself. “You’re drinking the hard stuff.”

“Well, to be honest, deep down I hope I won’t be able to do so for that much longer,” he admitted in a low voice.

“So you do believe that Snape found the reason after all.” Why Neville sounded so satisfied, Harry didn’t know.

\--

Neville had located the name of an incredibly poisonous plant, Aconitum ferox, which had also been used for medicinal purposes. Though nowadays it was only used in heavily diluted doses and, most of the time, ignored altogether, he had told Draco about it. They had both gone to see Severus and Hermione and then Draco was ordered to procure this thing – one way or another.

The Potions masters banned Hermione of the lab for a week, claiming being inside was too risky for her, and when they reappeared, they presented Harry with a smelly, disgustingly looking concoction. He was certain that it contained a lot of vile things. The way it looked, the plant had to be one of the lesser evils. But if it helped, he wouldn’t argue.

Hermione, on the other hand, had read her way through the darkest books Severus could find and, just as they were about to make their breakthrough, she found a few spells that sounded at least promising.

Of course, just copying them was no option. No one was surprised, though, since it wasn’t expected to be that easy.

Eventually, Ron, with his insufficient grasp of Latin, helped them solve the puzzle. One night, when she got home late, Hermione had told him of all the spells she had read about that day and Ron, not sure if he heard her correctly, repeated the last three as he had understood them. He had been wrong, but his error in pronouncing them helped Hermione see what had to be improved.

For the first time, Harry was allowed to participate in the research. On the one hand, he was delighted since he hated to be the only one not involved. After all, it concerned him more than anyone else. But on the other hand, trying to create new spells, armed with a kilometre long roll of parchment and a Latin dictionary that easily weighed more than eight pounds, was terribly boring.

“Did you find something?” Hermione asked when she returned from her third trip to the bathroom within one hour.

Harry pushed his parchment across the table, indicating the lat few words he had added. “It’s not much, I’m afraid.”

“No, it’s not,” she agreed, grinning. “But your ineptitude with the language matches Ron’s and now it looks like we have to thank you for finding the right words.” She pushed herself to her feet once more. “Let’s bring this to Snape and, hopefully, he’s going to approve.”

“You really think so?” Harry couldn’t believe his luck. He’d only been working on his assigned part for one morning and now it would come to an end already?

“Yes, I happen to think this way,” she confirmed. She snatched Harry’s list off the table and waddled towards the exit of the library, Harry on her heels.

The way to the dungeons took them considerably longer than Harry was used to, and they didn’t exchange one word on the way. Hermione seemed lost in her thoughts and Harry didn’t want to disturb her. Of course, he was thinking about the spells, too. Well, it was supposed to be one spell and it needed to get timed carefully. They would need the incantation exactly at the moment Severus had defined to be the most effective.

Finally, they reached their destination and Harry knocked at the door of Severus’ lab, waiting more or less patiently for a reaction.

“Yes?” Draco’s voice sounded from the inside. Steps could be heard and then the door opened. “Oh. Hi. Please tell me you found something,” he begged, looking at Hermione. 

Waving the parchment in his face, she nodded her confirmation. “Yes. Well, I think so. And it was Harry who stumbled across something suitable.”

Harry wanted to tell her that, while he had been lucky, he had taken the research pretty serious. He hadn’t just come across something out of sheer dumb luck. It took a little more effort than opening the dictionary at a random page and picking the first word that popped into his line of sight. But then he let it slide. Currently, they had other things to worry about.

For a split-second, he could see Draco rolling his eyes and that was all Harry needed to see for his world to be all right. Apparently, at least his partner knew that he had actually worked for the result and that was enough to make Harry smile, pleased with himself. He didn’t need everybody’s appreciation, but he wanted to have Draco’s.

Draco ushered them into the lab and closed the door behind them. “Let’s wait here for a moment. Severus is in the middle of brewing something quite delicate and he’s going to be grumpy all day if we bother him now.”

“How would that be different from any other day?” Hermione dared to ask what Harry would have thought a year ago. Nowadays, he knew better.

“Just because he was snippy during classes, you can’t deduce that he’s acting the same when he’s working. And yes, teaching is not exactly what he considers work. It’s his job, nothing more, nothing less. He excels in brewing.”

“Oh. Okay. Sorry…” Hermione muttered, shaking her head. Clearly, she hadn’t expected Draco to defend Severus like that.

“Yes, well--”

“I’m done, so you can stop analyzing my behaviour,” Severus stated, putting the contents of his cauldron under a stasis spell. “Harry, you found something we can work with?”

Sometimes, Harry still wondered how he did it. No matter what was said in the same room, Severus heard it, whether it was meant for him or not.

Wiggling his fingers, Severus waited impatiently for Draco to hand over the parchment. “Let’s see…” The second he had it in his grasp, his attention was focused on Harry’s writing.

“We based it on--”

“Thank you, Mrs Weasley,” the older wizard interrupted her mid-sentence. “I’m quite aware of what you’ve been doing. I commend your dedication and your diligent way of working, but I ask you not to underestimate my intelligence.”

How many years had it taken Severus to finally get to say this to Hermione? The witch beamed in delight. Praise from their former Professor was little and far between and she seemed overjoyed by his words, simply overhearing the rebuke. Unlike Neville, Hermione’s self-confidence had got even stronger over the years. She knew what she had achieved, but getting a compliment from a rare source like this never failed to make her happy.

Severus went to his desk and started scribbling furiously. After a few tense minutes, where none of the younger people dared to breathe loudly, he waved them over, indicating towards what he had written.

“We’re going to try it with this.”

“ _Vinductio Immanimus Mortupridem_ ,” Harry muttered. “It doesn’t sound very fancy.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Hermione agreed. “But as long as it does its job, we’ll all be happy.”

“Most spells don’t sound like much,” Severus said, “on the contrary. The most impressive results are often gained from the most long-winded spells.”

“At what point during the incantation did you plan to give the potion?” Draco asked. “Between ‘immanimus’ and ‘mortupridem’?”

“Because these words describe whatever resides in the scar, right?” Harry asked, feeling himself to get excited. They were so close, _so close_ , to free him once and for all from the monster that ruled his life for far too long.

Severus nodded. “Exactly. I think that will be our best choice. Mrs Weasley?”

“Sure. I mean, I don’t know what you brewed, but it sounds logical.”

“Well, I would prefer trying this on Halloween, but I suppose making you wait so much longer isn’t in your best interest?”

“What? No!”

“I thought so. No need to scream into my ear, Harry,” Severus said, his lips twitching suspiciously. 

“Would it improve our chances if we opted for a significant date?” Hermione asked, most certainly going through her mental calendar as she spoke.

Giving himself some time to consider her question, Severus replied eventually, “It wouldn’t hurt.”

“Then we will do this,” Draco decided and Harry nodded. He had waited so long, a bit longer wouldn’t kill him. Hopefully.

\--

Lacking a better choice, they had opted for summer solstice. Harry didn’t want to wait for his birthday and argued, that midsummer always had been a day to celebrate and possessed more than a little mystical value. Thankfully, Severus had agreed, and after that, it had been easy to convince Draco and Hermione.

Another positive aspect was, that it not only was a Friday, but by that date, the students would also no longer be in the castle, since it was after the start of the summer holidays.

And so they prepared everything for the 21st June. Draco practised the incantation until he could say it in his sleep, pronouncing every syllable exactly the way Severus wanted him to. The potion had been brewed freshly, because both Potions masters deemed the original one too old and, therefore, too weak. Harry had asked them way, but after listening to Severus’ explanation for ten minutes, he admitted defeat.

“But didn’t you want to know?” Severus asked, frowning.

“Yes, I did. But I understood your first five sentences, and then I was lost. I think if you went on, you’d only be wasting your time,” Harry admitted, regretfully.

“You let me talk for minutes before you thought to let me know?” Severus sounded incredulous.

“I was concentrating!”

“Sure,” the older man growled. Huffing, he crossed his arms. “Did that boyfriend of yours bother to tell you that you’re supposed to take a Calming Draught tomorrow?”

Harry nodded. “Yes, he did. He also said that I should take it well before the ritual?”

“I think that would be best, yes. We want you to be as relaxed as you can be, but we can’t have any other substance remain in your bloodstream as soon as you take the potion,” Severus replied, losing a bit of his scowl. These days, Harry always wondered how much of it was faked as a reminder of old times.

“Couldn’t you just knock me out?” Harry dared to ask. If he was honest, he was a little worried about what would await him and would have preferred to sleep through it all.

“Again, no other spells should be active in your body.” Severus looked at him sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Harry. But there’s no way around it.”

“Great,” Harry muttered. Wasn’t he lucky?

“The positive side it, that it should be over within moments,” the older wizard tried to reassure him.

“’Should’ is the point, isn’t it?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Since we created our own spell and potion, no one can say for sure who this ritual will go.”

“Stop making him more nervous than he already is,” Draco said, coming up behind them. “He’s going to drive me insane tonight, anyways.”

“Which reminds me…” Severus murmured. “There’s one more thing you should heed. No sex tonight, gentlemen.”

“Excuse me?” Draco sputtered. Harry was merely blinking.

“I should have said, no Draco fucking Harry tonight. The reason should be obvious!”

“Oh,” Harry said, finally seeing his point. “He just told me that I’ve got to be free of all other magic or potions working inside my system. If, for some strange reason, you should impregnate me tonight, we could forget about the ritual.”

“Couldn’t you have voiced it like that?” Draco complained. “Did you absolutely have to choose the crude way?”

“Seeing that I haven’t slept two nights in a row now, I think I am allowed,” Severus defended himself. He had been the one to re-brew the potion on his own, claiming that Draco needed to gather his strength for when he was to do the spell. They didn’t know for sure how much it would take out of him, but decided to better be prepared for all eventualities. 

“You’re going to sleep tonight, though, aren’t you?” Draco asked, worried. Severus was supposed to back him up, if need be, help him by boosting his magic with his own. Sadly, no one knew how much of a fight Voldemort’s ‘piece of soul’ would put up.

“I plan to, yes.” Severus rubbed his forehead, sighing. “Do you have any other question? Anything that is still unclear?” He looked at both of them.

“Are Hermione and Ron allowed to watch?”

“No, Harry, I don’t think that would be a wise decision. Mrs Weasley has to think of her child and Mr Weasley wouldn’t know what to do if his help was needed. I was about to suggest Mr Longbottom. While he is not as involved in the details, he knows enough to assess a possible problem.”

“But don’t you think it’d be disadvantageous, choosing someone who’s not able to access his magic?” Draco asked to consider.

Severus shook his head. “On the contrary, Draco. Just think about it. We’re planning to free Harry from dark magic. What would happen, if the one other person in the room lost their head and started casting spells?”

“Instant mayhem,” the blond said darkly.

“Most likely, yes. I’d rather have someone here with us who understands at least fractions of what has to happen and only will call for help when it’s obvious that something went seriously wrong. Not that I expect that to happen,” he quickly added upon seeing Harry’s expression.

“And not that you expect us to be in a position to be saved if the worse comes to the worst…” Harry added, the danger suddenly dawning on him. “Do we really want to do that?”

“You bet!” Draco exclaimed with a gleam in his eyes.

\--

Neville was only too willing to witness the ‘exorcism of Voldemort’ and promised to be there in time. Harry ended the call and closed the Floo when he got up again.

“What did he say?” Draco asked from the door.

“What do you think?”

“He jumped at the chance and almost burst out of pride for being the one chosen for that task?”

“Exactly,” Harry confirmed, grinning. “You forgot to mention that he was expressing his happiness and excitement in such a high volume so that not only Hannah came running, but I’m sure all his neighbours are awake now, too.”

Draco chuckled. “Enthusiastic, isn’t he?”

Harry nodded. “Give me another day and I hope I’ll be the same.”

“Are you scared?” Draco asked, taking a seat on the couch and motioning for Harry to join him.

“Sure.” He shrugged, flopping down beside his partner. Not that scared was exactly accurate. Terrified would be more like it. “Who wouldn’t be? I really thought I had got rid of that bastard when he destroyed the last Horcrux. I would like to know what Dumbledore would say when he knew about that.”

“You could have asked his portrait. You still could…”

“No. No, I don’t think so. This is our battle, no one else’s. Though I’m looking forward to tell him about it afterwards, if we are successful.”

“Not ‘if’, ‘when’,” Draco corrected instantly. He leaned against the backrest and pulled Harry with him. “Like you said, this is _our_ battle. If we don’t believe in our victory, no one else will.”

\--

They planned to wait until sunset. Harry had gobbled the Calming Draught that morning, wishing he could have more, and then the long hours of waiting had started. By now, it was time for dinner, but none of them was showing interest in the food the house-elves had provided.

“Did you tell Hannah what is about to happen?” Harry asked, staring morosely at the wall.

“Hmm, not exactly,” Neville said, trying to smile and giving up on it almost instantly. “I was afraid she wouldn’t let me leave if she knew what you were planning to do.”

“Surely, kicking some magical residue of an evil megalomaniac in the arse is nothing bad?” Harry asked himself if he had been wrong about Neville. Maybe he didn’t want to be here at all and only agreed out of obligation.

Neville shook his head. “No, it is not. But it does sound a bit dangerous, don’t you think?”

“Whoa. Aren’t you going to reassure me?” Why did he have to mention the danger? As if Harry had been thinking about anything since he knew what would happen.

“I would. Are you prepared to believe me when I say that everything will be fine? We’re doing something that should have been done years ago,” Neville said with conviction.

“How can you be sure?” Harry asked quietly. He wanted to believe his friend, but somehow, thinking positive was really hard for him that evening.

“I just am.”

“Is he driving you crazy now?” Draco asked. “We’ve had the same conversation for days now. Well, this morning the Calming Draught helped, but after its effect was waning, it started again.” He joined Harry and Neville on the sofa, squeezing himself between them. “Harry, if we didn’t believe this would work, we wouldn’t have suggested it.”

Harry heaved a sigh. Easy for him to say, wasn’t it? But then he rebuked himself for that thought. Draco loved him and would be devastated if anything happened to him. Maybe, his reasoning _was_ a bit affected by his worry.

“No one is going to eat anything?” Severus asked, coming out of his lab. When he didn’t get a response, he banished the food, clearing the table. “I can’t stand the smell of it at the moment,” he muttered under his breath. Harry was touched when he heard him. Obviously, he wasn’t the only feeling stressed and agitated. But also, watching Severus like this was worrying. Harry needed him to be sure of what he was doing!

At first, they had planned to do the ritual in Harry’s house, but then they decided on Hogwarts. If anything should happen, at least Pomfrey would be near and might be able to help. Logically, they knew that it wasn’t likely that there was anything she could do, but whatever made them feel safer was welcome.

“Can I ask something stupid?” 

“No, you may not, Mr Longbottom. But if you’d like, you may pose a question.”

To his credit, Neville didn’t even flinch. It was almost impossible to believe that this was the same person as the shy, clumsy student that had more cauldrons on his conscience than anyone else, most incidents (more or less directly) caused due to his fear of their Professor. Not only that, but Harry clearly recalled the form of Neville’s boggart in their third year. He certainly had come a long way since then.

“Thank you, Professor. What I’d like to know is, if the scar will be gone afterwards or if it will remain visible,” Neville said politely.

Severus seemed to think for a moment. “If it reacts similarly to other marks courtesy of the Dark Lord, it will fade but not disappear completely. If it was a normal curse scar, it wouldn’t change its appearance at all, but this is not what we think, is it?”

“So the marks all but disappeared?” Neville didn’t have to specify what kind of marks he was talking about. That much was obvious.

“Yes, they did,” Severus said, not offering him a look. Fortunately, Neville hadn’t expected that, anyways. 

But as Neville nodded and expressed his thanks, another thought occurred to Harry. Now that Severus no longer was under the influence of the Dark Mark, maybe he would be able to have children? Of course, he was in twenty years older than Harry and his friends, but since he knew that Muggles were able to have children that age, shouldn’t it be even more likely for a wizard who lived almost twice as long? Muggles reached an average age of seventy to eighty years, depending on gender, but a wizard could easily celebrate his 120th birthday.

He’d have to remember this for after the ritual, Harry decided. Somehow, he doubted that anyone, least of all Severus, would appreciate him mentioning this now.

“Hey.” Draco nudged him. “What are you thinking? All of a sudden, you’ve started to smile.”

Harry hummed and asked him to bear with him until after the ritual, and, moreover, until they were alone. Not only didn’t he want to betray Severus’ secret to Neville, but Harry also wondered, how Draco would react. Because Severus becoming pregnant would mean that he had sex with a creature…and the only one at hand and probably willing would be Malfoy. Telling Draco that his father might consider cheating on his wife was almost asking for a negative reaction.

Draco agreed reluctantly.

“What are you whispering?” Neville wanted to know. He shifted towards the armrest, giving Harry and Draco more room.

“Unfortunately, he’s not going to tell,” Draco complained. “He’s selfish like that.”

Harry shrugged and let them talk. Leaning against Draco beside him, he forced his body to relax. Harry prayed that he would succeed. He couldn’t go on like this, all tense and agitated. He had two more hours to survive, damn it. Distraction didn’t seem to work for him, only for a really short time. He had already tried that repeatedly.

Neville and Draco had started talking about Neville’s shop. Apparently, Draco wondered if they should find a way to start a business relationship. While he dealt with rare ingredients himself, he also brewed customized potions and was always looking for dependable suppliers, especially where common ingredients were concerned. Draco only wanted the best, not the cheap stuff one could get in the apothecaries.

Immediately interested, Neville started rattling of prices and listed which plants he had on stock and what he thought he might be able to obtain for a reasonable fee.

It didn’t take long and Severus was also joining in their conversation. While he didn’t need the masses of ingredients Draco used to go through per week, he was also regularly checking, if his suppliers were still among the best. Even though he didn’t pay for most things himself, but used the budget he had, considering that he was the school’s Potions master, he was always looking for a bargain.

“So what sort of things are you looking for?” Neville asked. “Not the ingredients for your classes, I take it?”

“No. That can be ordered by owl, usually from overseas. I was thinking of the ingredients for Pomfrey’s potions,” Severus explained.

“Well, okay.” Neville sounded almost giddy. “Why don’t you tell me what size you’re thinking of? Then I’ll see what I can do for you.”

“Thankfully, the intake of potions had decreased since certain people are no longer students in this institution, but we’re still talking about quite huge amounts. Sadly, most of the potions used in the infirmary consist of the same things.”

“That is no problem,” Neville reassured him. “Like I told Draco, once I know what is needed and roughly when, I can prepare accordingly.”

“Well, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Neville said, smiling. “And if you’re worried that I might overextend myself, let me reassure you that, by now, I know what is possible considering the space I’ve got and how much time is needed for a perfect result.”

“All right. Expect my list within the following week at the latest,” Severus said, before he disappeared inside his lab once again.

“What is he doing in there all the time?” Neville asked quietly once Severus was out of sight.

“Checking the potion for the hundredth time. Reciting the brewing process in minute detail, trying to find out if anything could have gone wrong – things like that,” Draco replied, equally quietly. While his attention was focused on Neville, he absentmindedly started to rub Harry’s arm and back. “He’s like that, always worrying until the end. But this is why there are rarely if never any unforeseen occurrences with his potions. He goes through the possibilities beforehand and nips them in the bud.”

“So this one will work?”

“Yes, it will. He’s been convinced of the first version and it was improved twice. It’s pretty foolproof now.”

“You wouldn’t have allowed Harry to take it otherwise, would you?”

“Are you mad? Of course not! He’s my partner, not some guinea pig,” Draco stated with conviction.

“Very well.” Harry swore he could hear the satisfaction in Neville’s tone. And then he drifted off to sleep, totally unpredicted and yet so very welcome.

\--

“Harry.” Someone said close to his ear, so close he could feel their breath on his cheek. Squeezing his eyes shut tighter, Harry decided to play dead to the world. Finally, he had been able to sleep, something that hadn’t happened much lately, and he thought it was rather cruel to wake him.

“Harry, come on. We only have about fifteen minutes left to get into position.”

That had him jerk upright, almost knocking Draco aside with his movement. “Fuck! Why didn’t you wake me earlier?” Harry complained, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He might have been up, but he still felt sleepy.

“Because we thought it would do you good,” Draco replied calmly. “Waiting isn’t that much fun.”

“Thank you,” Harry said, grudgingly. His conscience helpfully reminded him that he should have sucked it up. If his friends had endured it, he should have sat it out with them.

“Well, up you get.” Draco pulled him to his feet. “Uh, Severus told me to remind you to go to the bathroom first…” he added, clearly awkward.

Merlin, Harry didn’t even want to think about why he should mention that. What did he expect would happen to Harry’s body? Would the potion render him unable to control his bodily functions? Or the spell? He shuddered, but hurried to obey.

When he returned to the sitting room, Draco was still waiting for him and he was grateful. While he knew, of course, where he had to go, he preferred not to head there on his own. It still felt like being led to the gallows. He couldn’t help but think that, at least, he had company on his last walk.

After about half a minute, which felt like mere seconds and half an eternity, they reached what was normally a large storage room. It had been cleared of everything, including the shelves on the wall, and when Harry and Draco entered, Severus was showing Neville where to write which rune. That was a spur of the moment change in the original plan, because Draco had raised concerns about Severus’ Dark Mark. He was worried that the part of Voldemort, whatever it was called, would seek another place to hide and somehow find its way there. Of course, it was not sentient and, therefore, unable to sense where it had to search, but they wanted to be absolutely certain that nothing of that sort could happen. If anything, surrounding Harry with runes also helped keep Draco and Neville safe, acting like a safety net.

“Harry, you’re awake. Good.” Severus stood, smiling at Harry. Then he turned to Neville. “Mr Longbottom, do us the favour and write that last rune again. This time, make sure that the lines are more exact. If you start one, make sure you finish to the end, no discontinuations.”

“Sorry, sir,” Neville apologized immediately and started over. Harry was impressed by his restraint. But then, he had never pictured Severus trusting Neville enough to let him help with something important like that. Yes, he had contributed his knowledge when they had been looking for the perfect potions ingredients, but was not allowed to help in the practical parts. Until now.

“Draco, please have another look at the circle. Pay particular attention to the order. We need to get this right on the first try,” Severus stressed. 

Draco squeezed Harry’s hand one last time and did what he was told. A moment later, Severus appeared by his side.

“Ten more minutes. Are you ready?”

“No. But that hardly matters.” Harry wrapped his arms around himself, trying to hide the shaking of his limbs.

“I’ll save myself the trouble of telling you nonsense like ‘It will be over before you know it’, because that clearly is a lie,” Severus commented, his dark eyes trained on Draco and Neville, not missing a move they made. “But I can tell you that it will be over in another twenty minutes at the latest. Considering that you waited for so long now, that might be of some comfort.”

“Thank you.” It wasn’t exactly reassuring, but at least it wasn’t some senseless drivel, Harry figured. He just wanted this whole thing behind him already.

Neville scrambled to his feet. “I’m done. And as far as I can see, Draco found everything in order.”

Severus nodded. “Right. Well, then let’s get this over with.” He turned to Draco who was joining them now as well. “Did you find anything amiss?”

“No. I check the circle twice,” Draco added, probably for Harry’s sake because he was looking at him as he spoke.

“So, whatever happens, you guys will be safe?” Harry asked to be sure.

Rubbing his face, Severus sighed. “As safe as we can be. But I can guarantee that no evil spirit will befall us, at least, not the one that kept bugging you for two decades. And stop looking at me like that. I know that the Dark Lord is no longer alive and that it’s just some of his magic left.”

Harry had been about to protest, but when Severus elaborated further, he found himself in agreement with what he had said.

“Ten minutes are up,” he said resolutely. If he gave himself any more time to think, he’d bail, and to prevent that from happening, there was no other way but forward. “So I just sit within the circle? Or do you want me to lie down?”

“Sitting would be better. It will help you swallowing every last drop of the potion.”

“I can’t wait,” Harry muttered but complied. Folding his legs in front of him, resting his elbows on his knees, he looked up at the three other men in the room. “As far as I am concerned, we can start now.”

Draco looked bewildered. “Harry?”

“What? You woke me and told me what would be expected of me. Here I am,” Harry snapped. He was getting more nervous by the second and wanted them to start now.

“Uh, well…” Draco swallowed. “All right. Fine.” Shaking his wand into his hand, he positioned himself in front of Harry, but made sure to remain outside of the circle. Correcting his stance minutely, he finally nodded. “I’m ready.”

Severus came over, looking from Draco to Harry, checking the blonde’s aim. Inclining his head, he said, “That will do.”

Neville had already retired towards the door. He was allowed to stay inside the room, but had to make sure that he kept his distance. Severus had threatened him with a few unpleasant consequences, should he step one toe out of line.

“Mr Longbottom, stay where you are under any circumstances.”

Neville, who had to possess the patience of a saint, merely nodded. Harry wondered what his friend’s planes were for later that day. Either he would head to the nearest pub and start drinking, or maybe he had arranged something to take out his aggressions on. It had to be so hard, getting treated like the student he had once been, and keeping a neutral face during the ordeal.

“I will levitate the potion and you are to drink it _without touching the vial_. Understood?”

Harry rolled his eyes. He was perfectly fine to process basic commands in English, especially, if they had been repeated to him about five times a day for ages.

“A verbal answer, if you please!” 

Merlin. The closer they got to the ritual, the more Severus was reverting back to his old, pleasant self.

“Yes, sir.”

If Severus was angry because of his attitude, he managed to hide it successfully. Instead, he nodded towards Draco and, when he raised his wand, Severus had the potion hovering at the edge of the rune circle.

“Go!”

Draco looked at his feet and then he widened his stance. Taking a deep breath, he started casting in a strong, commanding voice, carefully enunciating every syllable. 

“ _Vinductio…_ ”

The vial appeared in front of him, already no longer completely vertical. Harry was tempted to reach for it, but kept his hands firmly clasped together in his lap. His mind was trying to keep up with what was happening, he also meant to glance towards Neville, but everything happened too fast.

_…Immanimus…_

The vial tipped, a fraction of an inch from Harry’s lips, and he opened his mouth just in time to catch the first few drops spilling out of the glass. He didn’t notice the taste, but he certainly felt the pain when the potion made its way down his gullet. He swore he was ingesting molten lava.

 _…Mortupridem_.”

The moment Draco finished the incantation, a stream of blue light left his wand, slamming into Harry’s forehead. He felt the power behind it and, for a split-second, wondered whether it would stay comparatively painless, when he cursed himself for his naivety. Then he blacked out.

\--


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it: the last chapter of this fic. At the end, you'll find a short explanation on the term Furattactus and some of the potions.
> 
> Thank you all for reading, liking, and commenting.

“I’ll only feel better when I know that Harry’s all right,” Draco said sharply.

“For the third time, yes, I got that. But, since he’s still sleeping, it would help to know how you are feeling, Draco,” Severus snarled, no patience whatsoever detectable in his tone.

“He’s not,” Neville interrupted. “Sleeping, that is. He just woke up.”

Harry blinked, wondering how he gave himself away. As he finally opened his eyes all the way, three heads were hovering above him.

“Uh, hi.”

“Are you feeling all right? Does anything hurt?” Draco snapped, instead of a friendlier greeting. Harry couldn’t help but be a little taken aback at that welcome. Giving himself a quick once-over, he admitted that he was feeling fine. Well, besides the headache, but that had been expected.

Draco’s face lit up and before Harry could brace himself, the blond tackled him, knocking the wind out of him.

“Whew!”

“Do be careful!” Severus admonished. “I would prefer him to be in one piece for a bit longer.”

“Are you really all right? Do you feel any different?” Neville asked while he was kneeling beside whatever Harry was resting on.

Harry shook his head. “No, nothing feels different.” He listened inside himself. “Really. But then, I wasn’t able to feel the scar before. Not since He has been dead.”

Draco was lying on him like dead meat, but when Harry paid closer attention, he noticed the slight shudders that went through him. He had started to cry.

“Um, could I have a moment with my boyfriend, please?” he asked, suddenly close to tears himself. Poor Draco. Harry was sure that, had it been anyone but himself in his place, he would have a minor breakdown, too. The relief, now that everything was all right, had to be overwhelming.

“Of course.” Neville seemed to have realized what was going on as well, and with one last glance at Draco, he stood and left. When Harry looked towards where Severus had been standing, he noticed that he was already gone.

“We’re alone,” he informed Draco. When he got no response but a minute tightening of the hold Draco had on him, he started rubbing small circles on his back. “Hey… It’s over.”

“I know,” Draco said, his tone wavering. “But you have no idea how scared I was.”

“Thankfully, no,” Harry replied truthfully. Despite knowing that it was selfish, he was still really grateful that Draco had kept most of his concerns to himself, probably sensing that Harry was worried enough without the additional bad conscience.

“It was terrible. The spell hit you and, for a moment, you seemed unaffected, but then your eyes rolled back in your head and you collapsed to the floor, hitting your head pretty bad. Severus was lending me some of his strength and was therefore unable to prevent it. Neville was too far away to do much. Besides, he was told over and over that he wouldn’t be allowed to step in, using magic during the procedure.” Draco winced. “I won’t ever forget the sound your head made while it was hitting the stone.”

“That bad?” Harry had difficulties imagining it since he didn’t feel any pain resulting from his fall. There was just the headache in his forehead where the scar had been. Regarding the scar… “Is it gone?”

“What?”

“The scar. Is it gone or still visible?” Harry clarified, reaching for his face only to feel his hand connecting with a bandage. “What the hell?”

Pushing himself off Harry’s body, Draco came to rest beside him. “Leave it. We couldn’t get a close look because of all the blood, but it seems to have vanished. Severus wrapped your head to make sure that the wound won’t become infected,” he explained, pinning Harry’s hand with his. 

“It was bleeding?” Harry was surprised. Somehow, he had imagined the ritual being less invasive.

“That astonishes you? What did you think would happen? Of course, there was blood. Remember when you told me how your scar used to swell and turn bright red when he was bothering you with visions?” Harry nodded. “We forced the last remainder of his magic out of it. Of course it was putting up a bit of a fight.”

“But you did it,” Harry said, clinging to the positive part of the news. He couldn’t bear to think about the rest or he would get sick.

“Yes, albeit barely. Without Severus to aid me… It was a close thing,” Draco said. They way he avoided Harry’s gaze told him just how close it had been. 

“But nothing happened to you?” he asked, praying for the best.

“No. He backed me up and then it was already over. Fortunately, the spell only got demanding when Severus had administered the potion. I don’t know what would have happened otherwise.”

Harry nodded. Dropping the vial would have put an end to their plan, as would have his touching the glass to steady it. “I remember thinking that it was surprisingly painless. And then I realized how wrong I had been.”

“Yes. Your eyes got wide for a moment and then you blacked out. At least, this is what Neville told us.” 

“Hmm.” Harry licked his lips, unsure if he should voice the next question. “Um, did you already check if it’s gone? I mean, besides the visual aspect.”

“Of course, you oaf!” Draco exclaimed. “You were still lying on the floor when Severus first checked if you were hurt seriously and when that diagnostic scan revealed nothing severe, he did the other spell. It is definitely gone!”

Harry exhaled. “Thank Merlin…”

“No, thank Harry, Hermione, Severus, Neville and Draco.”

Harry jabbed him in the ribs. “Very funny.”

Draco grinned but then he sobered. “I don’t know what I would have done without you,” he admitted quietly. 

“But thankfully, you don’t have to think about that any longer,” Harry said, equally sombre. He sighed. “Severus was right. It was over before I knew it.”

“Well, for us, it took a little longer. We had to wait a few minutes before we dared to enter the circle. Then it took a while to sort you out and then you were out for over an hour.”

“Oh. Okay.” 

“Yes. In the meantime, Severus drove me crazy with his questions about my wellbeing.” 

“You, of course, were completely rational throughout the whole process,” Harry commented, smirking when he saw Draco’s expression change to indignation. He could picture him, the epitome of calmness and collectedness. Most likely, it had taken the joined forces of the other two men in the room to restrain him, preventing him from rushing to Harry’s side, all consequences be damned.

“Shut up,” Draco demanded, pouting.

“And kiss you?” Harry asked, hopefully. He rolled to his side, facing Draco, and pulled him closer. Some life-affirming action would be just what he needed, right after a potion to relieve his headache.

Draco looked a bit green upon hearing Harry’s suggestion. “Harry. Do you know where we are?”

“We’re on a big, comfy bed in a half-lit room. And we’re alone.” Harry looked at him expectantly. Surely, Draco wouldn’t reject him, would he? Not after his recent scare.

“This big, comfy bed happens to belong to Severus,” Draco said, slowly.

Flinching, Harry pushed Draco away at first. Not only was that notion unromantic, but he was also afraid what would happen to them if they were caught. 

“Scared you off, did it?”

Was that supposed to be a challenge? Harry stared into Draco’s grey eyes, trying to read his thoughts. The blond did nothing to give away his feelings. No muscle twitched and his eyes remained expressionless.

Narrowing his eyes, Harry waited a bit longer. Then, on the spur of the moment, he came to a decision. “Can you summon me a pain reducer for my head?”

“Sure. But won’t you rather ask Severus for something? I know he keeps better stuff at hand,” Draco suggested.

“Not right now, no.”

A blond eyebrow rose. Draco considered this for a moment, and then he nodded in agreement, muttering something like ‘kinky bastard’ under his breath.

\--

As predicted, Severus was incredibly unhappy about them using his bed for other things than simple relaxation. Draco tried to tell him that had all been what they did, but somehow, that only made things worse. 

“You…” he growled, but kept the insult to himself. “Mr Potter, since you obviously are feeling well enough, you are free to leave. Preferably within the next five seconds!”

Neville had already fled the scene after walking into the bedroom, with Severus on his heels, and catching them in a state of undress none of the intruders had expected to find. Forcing a hurried goodbye past his lips, he had spun on his heels and was gone before any of the boys had been able to respond.

“Severus.” Harry wasn’t prepared to give up that fast. Yes, having sex in the man’s bed had been a mistake, but exceptional circumstances sometimes made people do weird things. Now, he just had to find a way to explain.

“No. I cannot see how I would be interested in anything you could have to say. Go.”

Having somehow found his way into his clothes, Draco got up. He remained standing in front of the bed, shielding Harry from Severus’ eyes. If anything, that was what made Harry come to his senses.

“Fuck.” Quickly throwing over his shirt and scrambling into his underwear, Harry nudged Draco to let him pass. 

“What are you doing? We should leave now,” Draco hissed urgently. “He’s livid.”

“Of course he is,” Harry gave back a bit harsher than he had intended. “Just think for a moment what he has done for us, but, moreover, for me. And how do I pay him back for his kindness? By fucking in his bed. With the boy who could have, no, should have been his son. And that was right after a ritual that could have cost me my life. Well, not only mine, but yours and his as well.”

Draco looked like he was about to defend their actions, but then he seemed to reconsider. “Okay. Maybe it’s nothing to be proud of, not really. But it helped you come back to yourself, didn’t it?”

“Yes,” Harry conceded. “But it certainly didn’t help him.” He indicated towards the man who was still standing in the door, looking distinctly undecided.

“We messed this up, didn’t we?”

“Oh yes,” Harry agreed wholeheartedly.

\--

A fuming Hermione greeted them in Harry’s quarters. “What were you thinking?” she yelled, the moment she caught sight of them.

“Hello to you, too. And thank you for asking about my wellbeing. I am feeling wonderful.”

“Harry. Stop it.” Hermione was rather pale with bright red spots adorning her cheeks. “I’m not in the mood for stupid mind games.”

“Sorry,” Harry murmured sheepishly. Apparently, he was pissing off everyone he met that day.

“Harry is all right. Well, as much as can be expected. I take it you already contacted Neville?” Draco closed the door behind him and steered Harry towards the sofa. “Here. Take a seat and I’ll get you some headache potion.”

“You’re still in pain?” Immediately, Hermione’s anger was replaced with concern. She leaned forward in her seat and took in his appearance.

Harry shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“If Draco’s offering you a potion, it’s not fine,” Hermione said. “And yes, I briefly spoke to Neville. Unfortunately, he couldn’t stay long because he had promised Hannah to come home as soon as he could. But he said that the last remainder of Voldemort is gone?”

“Yes. Everything went according to plan and whatever still lingered inside Harry’s scar is gone now,” Draco replied with pride in his voice.

“Good. Thank Melin!” She was relieved, but then she pointed towards the bandage. “But you were hurt, weren’t you?”

“Well, I’m sure Neville already described what happened,” Harry started, suddenly feeling tired again. He didn’t want to start explaining everything from the beginning. However, Hermione was still looking at him expectantly. He sighed and launched into his explanation. “You remember how it looked like when I had a vision? Think of it like that, only worse. And that’s also why I still have a headache. It had to be expected and, since this is everything, I consider myself lucky.”

Draco nodded. “Harry’s right. We knew that something like that might happen. But other than that, everything went according to plan.”

“Until you two dunderheads decided to have fun in Snape’s bedroom,” Hermione stated with her face expressionless.

Harry blushed. “Well, yes. There was that.”

“Do I want to know why you thought that would be a good idea?” she asked tentatively.

“Us being in Severus’ room was unfortunate,” Draco conceded. “Aside from that, we wanted to have something positive to focus on for a while. Don’t you remember times during the war, when you just had to have sex to feel that you’re still alive?” When Hermione nodded, Draco went on, “And that is how we felt. At first, I didn’t understand what Harry was talking about, but then he explained himself and, suddenly, I knew he was right. We both needed that.”

“What about Snape? When Neville left, he had still been mostly speechless.”

“Oh, he soon found his voice again,” Harry reassured her. “And he had quite a few things to say. Especially, when I refused to leave like he told me to. He wasn’t even speaking to Draco anymore.”

Draco winced. “Be glad you haven’t been there to witness that, Hermione.”

Her eyes softened. “That bad?”

“Worse.”

“And now? Are you guys still on speaking terms?”

“’Still’ is the wrong term,” Harry said. “’Again’ would be correct. He was really, really mad. And I know that, from his point of view, it’s understandable. For a while, I honestly thought there was nothing left to say between us. But then, we a few things, uncaring if he was even listening, and thankfully, it turned out that he did.”

“Maybe he’s been in that very situation before?” Hermione surmised.

“I thought so, too.” Draco shrugged. “Of course, he didn’t hint at anything like that. We won’t ever learn if we’re right about that. Once Severus has made up his mind, he rarely changes his opinion afterwards.”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, that sounds like him.” She looked at her hands in her lap. “What do you mean when you said that you ‘explained a few things’?”

Inwardly, Harry cursed. No one in the whole wide world would have picked up on his choice of words, no one but Hermione. “We didn’t have sex since it happened, afraid that I would become pregnant again and lose it once more,” he replied in rapid speed, hoping that she wouldn’t catch it.

No such luck.

Her head snapped up and brown eyes stared at him. “You didn’t?” A mixture of shock, surprise and concern dominated her tone.

“What do you expect?” Harry snapped. He was so sick of people talking about things and situations, when they clearly didn’t have the faintest idea what it meant for the ones who had to live through it. “You got pregnant without a problem and never experienced anything unpleasant in all those months but mild nausea at the beginning. You have no right to judge the way we try to deal with what happened!”

Hermione jerked back as if she had been slapped. She opened her mouth, trying to say something, but gave up after a moment. Then, holding her stomach with one hand, she staggered to her feet, all the while refusing to meet anyone’s eye.

Draco looked from Harry to Hermione and back, helplessness etched in his features. 

“What?” Harry barked. His bad conscience was almost choking him, making it hard to breath through the growing lump in his throat. There was no reason for him to feel bad, he told himself. But to no avail.

Venting his frustrations that way had been wrong and he knew it. While Hermione tended to press her opinions on other people, she was also one of his best and most loyal friends and had sacrificed a lot of her time to help him before, during and after his pregnancy. He hadn’t even read every bit of information she had provided for him.

By the time Harry was starting to come to his senses, Hermione had reached the door. While he was still wondering if he should hold her up, Draco didn’t suffer from the same indecision.

“Hermione, wait!” he called, rushing to her. “Please, just wait a moment.”

Her lips were pressed into a thin line and her gaze promised nothing good when she turned around at his plea.

“I don’t see that this is a good idea right now,” she said quietly, obviously struggling to remain polite. Surely, she wasn’t as calm as she wanted to project.

“Well, I do,” Draco said, licking his lips before he went on, “Look, Harry had no right to snarl at you. However, to his defence, you have no idea what he went through those last months. I know.” Draco held up his hand to stave off her interruption. “That’s not your fault and you did what you could to make him talk to you. But, sometimes, it’s not that easy, especially, when you’re supposed to open up to people who are not in the same boat.”

Hermione nodded, his look thawing a little.

“I know that, because we also have problems talking to each other. I’m not sure about Harry, and it’s awful to admit that, but I had it to have forced out of me by…” Draco swallowed. “…my father. He gets really nasty when he feels someone is not telling him the truth. When someone else, namely Severus, has his back, it’s even harder to get away from him. In hindsight, I’ve got to say he was right.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, I only felt better for a while.”

“Hmm. You’re saying that trying to get him to talk, though being right, was making it harder for him?” Hermione asked pensively.

Draco nodded. 

“Would it have been better to say nothing?”

“No. Because then I would have wondered if you weren’t interested one whit about what happened,” Harry cut in, finally having found his voice. “I am so sorry for the way I snapped at you, ‘Mione. I shouldn’t have exploded like that.”

Harry prayed that she would believe him to be sincere. He didn’t feel bad for what he said, because, in his opinion, it was true, but he should have found a better way to express his feelings. She, of all people, deserved better.

“Do you want me to leave you alone until after the birth?” Hermione asked, once more avoiding his gaze. “Or for longer?”

Why was it that women always had to talk everything through? No to mention that it also made others reply and consider things they never wanted to think about. Harry didn’t want to say what he knew he had to say to mollify her. But if he remained quiet, would he be willing to pay the price for his stubbornness.

So he said, harsher than intended, “No! I know it’s not your fault. It’s nobody’s fault and I know I need to come to terms with it already, but I can’t help that I’m getting eaten by jealousy whenever I see you these days. I can’t help that.”

Hermione winced. “I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t have to be…” Harry said with conviction. 

“Yes, well…” She heaved a sigh. “I’m going to leave you alone now. I believe you have some things to talk about.”

Unfortunately, she was right. But Harry doubted that they would start a conversation of that magnitude tonight.

“Please give our regards to Ron,” Draco said. “And let us know when the baby is born.”

“I will,” Hermione promised, smiling. “If you’re sure.”

“Of course we are,” Harry said, again finding that he had spoken the truth.

“Uh… There is one thing I meant to ask you,” Hermione started, returning to stand in front of Harry. “Look. I understand if you changed your mind. But I have to ask if you still want to be the godfather of the baby?”

Harry was shocked. Was she really wondering about that? Hermione looked at him, deadly serious, and Harry’s heart clenched at the thought that his friends doubted his affection and love for their unborn child.

“Don’t you want me anymore?”

“Oh, Harry! That’s… No, we were worried about you,” Hermione exclaimed. “Of course we didn’t change our minds! We gave this a lot of thought and nothing’s changed.”

 _Thank Merlin._ “I wouldn’t give up this chance for anything.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said happily and Harry wondered how she could forgive him that quickly. But however she did it, he was very grateful.

“Thank _you_!”

\--

Draco and Harry talked a lot during the weeks that followed that day. Harry learned that Draco had been much more affected than he had ever thought possible. In turn, he admitted to feeling like a failure when he hadn’t been able to keep their child safe. Of course, that thought was nothing new to him, but he had never said it out loud, least of all to Draco. 

It took them a few nights to get there, but in the end, both of them claimed to feel relieved now that they had voiced their fears and doubts in front of each other, vowing that they would never again let it come to this.

Rose Janessa Weasley was a summer child, born in the middle of a heat wave and, from day one, always wore a cheery and sunny expression – unless she was in a bad mood. Apparently, she was an explosive mixture of both of her parents. Harry had fallen in love with her the second he set his eyes on her for the first time.

To Harry’s utmost relief, meeting Rose was different than meeting other babies for the first time. Being his goddaughter made her special, and, somehow, the pride he felt when he held her, made it easier to bond with her.

Draco, while not her godfather on paper, also adored her. He trailed along on every visit Harry made and acted every bit the doting uncle.

Sometime in autumn that very same year, Harry began to feel strange. However, he didn’t pay much attention to it. The school year was about to start, and, to be honest, he really wasn’t in the mood for feeling under the weather. 

And so he ignored it to the best of his ability, making room in his schedule for one more hour of sleep each night and, when that didn’t help, went to Severus for some potion. He knew that guzzling Pepper Up Potion wasn’t a long-term solution, but there had to be other things he could take to gain more energy.

When he knocked on Severus’ office door one night, he was called inside almost instantly. He expected the older wizard to be surprised to see him, but, obviously, that was not the case.

“Well, here you are. I was wondering when you would make an appearance,” Severus said, looking up from the parchment in front of him. “Take a seat, Harry.”

“Uh, thank you.” Harry sat down. He was about to start explaining why he had come to see him, when he remembered what Severus had said. “Why would you wait for me? Did I miss anything?”

“I am afraid so,” Severus said. Was there a grin pulling on his lips? Quickly, Harry went through the events during the past weeks, trying to come up with an explanation for Severus’ weird behaviour. In the end, he gave up.

“So? Are you going to tell me?”

“Have you seen your friends lately? Mrs Weasley, born Granger, for example?”

If anything, Harry was even more confused. Why would he ask about Hermione? Since there was nothing else he could do, Harry shook his head and waited for more information.

“When was that last time you saw Draco?”

“Before the start of term,” Harry replied dutifully. He still didn’t know what that was all about. Did Severus plan to ask him the same question containing all of his friends? If that was the case, they would be busy for the next few hours.

“And what did he have to say?”

“As if I would tell you,” Harry snapped, losing his patience. Certainly, the content of their conversations was none of Severus’ business.

“Well, maybe he would like to see you tonight,” Severus suggested. “You could have a nice little chat and maybe you could tell him how you feel.”

“How I feel?” Harry shook his head. Whatever Severus had been smoking, he’d better steer clear of that from now on. “Well, I came here to ask you about alternatives for Pepper Up Potion,” he added, when Severus just looked at him.

“Wonderful. Since Draco is bound to having lots of potions in stock, I am confident that he will have something suitable for your needs.”

“You’re not going to help me?” Harry asked, dumbfounded. That was the first time in ages that Severus denied him a demand. He wasn’t used to it anymore, and, therefore, being dismissed like that hurt.

“I am helping you,” Severus insisted and Harry, too tired to fight any longer, dragged himself to his feet and shuffled out of the office. Letting the door fall closed behind him, he pondered his next steps of action. 

On the one hand, he swore he could hear his bed shouting for him, but on the other hand, visiting Draco didn’t sound like a bad idea. And so Harry went to his quarters and landed on Draco’s carpet a few minutes later. Brushing the soot of his clothes, he looked around for his boyfriend.

Where was he? Usually, he came running as soon as he heard the Floo activate. Harry had just finished that thought, when footsteps rapidly drew nearer. Harry grinned. Some things, it seemed, never changed.

“Harry! Hi. Did we have a date?” Draco called, still not even in the same room.

Rolling his eyes, Harry replied, loud enough for the blond to hear, “No. But I thought you’d be happy to see me anyways.”

“If course.” Draco hurried through the door. “You’re lucky you caught me. I was at the Manor but remembered that I forgot some important folders for work tomorrow. Since I didn’t want to get up early to locate them in the middle of the night, I came back to get them now.”

“So this is a bad time?” Harry already turned back to the fireplace. Why was it that this night no one wanted him around?

His disappointment must have showed in his tone and body language, for Draco snickered. “Don’t be such a baby. You know I love having you around. Especially, since I haven’t seen you in ages,” he added. “Don’t you want to give me a hug?”

“Come and get it if you really want it,” Harry groused. Honestly, he had expected a more enthusiastic welcome.

“Did you come here to fight?” Draco’s formerly pleasant tone was getting harsher. “I’m not interested.”

“Of course you’re not. Go back to your family and have a nice evening,” Harry said, insincerely but unable to mean it.

“What the…” Draco took a deep breath and stalked closer. “You were already mad when you came here, weren’t you?” he accused. “At least, you owe me an explanation. What happened?”

Harry shrugged. “I went to Severus for some potion and he just sent me away,” he said reluctantly. He already knew that Draco wouldn’t take him serious and wondered why he even bothered.

“I’m sure he had his reasons,” Draco said and with that, simply waving off Harry’s righteous anger at the dismissal.

Well, that was just like he had predicted. Harry growled. He should never have come here, he knew it.

After staring at him for a moment, an incredulous expression on his face, Draco sighed. “What kind of potion did you need?”

“You don’t want to know anyways,” Harry accused.

“And yet I’m asking. What potion, Harry?”

“Pepper Up,” Harry mumbled, reaching for the Floo powder on the mantelpiece.

“Why do you need it? Are you sick?” Draco asked. His long fingers wrapped around Harry’s wrist, keeping him from grabbing the powder.

“No.” Harry twisted his arm, trying to loosen Draco’s firm grip on him. “Let go!”

“In a moment,” Draco snapped. “Pepper Up Potion, Harry. _Why_?”

“Merlin’s beard… Why do people swallow that crap? Because they’re feeling tired and need to function in their jobs or for their families. It’s not so mysterious if you think about it that way.” Harry forced himself to relax his arm for a bit and when he thought he had Draco sufficiently fooled, he yanked at it once more. This time, he got free. His fingertips were already touching the pot when Draco levitated it and put it out of reach. Harry scowled.

“So you are sick?” Draco inquired, steel lacing his tone.

“No, just tired. Now give that bloody pot here,” Harry demanded, wiggling his finger to show his impatience.

“And he specifically said to come to me…for the potion?”

Harry wanted to scream or bang his head against the wall, preferably both. “Not exactly. Actually, he suggested I come here so we could have a talk,” he clarified.

When he noticed a stupid grin forming on Draco’s face, the man was lucky that he was standing too far away for Harry to physically wipe it off his face. What was wrong with everyone?

Before he had a chance to voice his thought, Draco whipped out his wand once more. “Just… Give me thirty seconds, and then you can hex me.”

Why did he have to look so certain of his safety? Draco should know Harry well enough by now. He should be aware that, sooner or later, Harry would explode and couldn’t guarantee for the safety of his surroundings. Well, after that much time at his side, Draco could consider himself warned, Harry mused, and way to annoyed to pay attention to what Draco was doing with his thirty seconds.

So he wasn’t prepared in the least when Draco, totally out of the blue, bounced towards him and almost knocked him over in his rush to hug him. He could explain that no less than Draco’s screeching.

“Uh…” Harry started but in his confusion, he had trouble finding the right words.

“You have no idea what just happened, do you?” Draco asked, still smiling. Pulling back from Harry, he pointed between their bodies. At first, Harry didn’t understand, but then he realized that Draco’s spell was still active. And it wasn’t just anything.

A familiar hologram he had come to love was floating in the correct position.

“G-Gods, D-Draco…” Harry stuttered. He couldn’t believe his eyes. 

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Draco shook his head. “I didn’t know how much I had hoped for this to happen…until now,” he admitted.

Harry nodded. He had forced himself to push aside all thoughts of a new pregnancy, hadn’t allowed himself to hope. And now, it had happened. Just like that. They hadn’t tried for it. Harry hadn’t touched the Fecundilentus Potion. And yet he was, without a doubt, pregnant.

“Draco. I’m pregnant!”

“I know!”

“We’re going to be parents!”

“I know!”

Finding himself grinning like a loon, Harry stared at the hologram. Something was different this time. Narrowing his eyes, he took a closer look. Finally, the truth began to dawn on him.

“It’s already older. Bigger. You know?”

Draco focused on the embryo and, after a minute, he nodded. “You’re right. It doesn’t look like a peanut with limbs anymore. It looks like a real human being – with weird proportions, but still. Thank Merlin!”

Draco had voiced what had been Harry’s first thought. If the child was already bigger, maybe there was a real chance for them to keep it this time?

Suddenly, Harry sprang into action. There was no way he would be able to wait until the morning to have clarity. “Pomfrey or Severus?”

Thankfully, Draco didn’t seem to think he was insane. He simply Accio’d the pot holding the Floo powder, took out a pinch and threw it into the flames. “Severus Snape’s office, Hogwarts.”

Taking Harry with him, they were carried away instantly.

\--

“Draco?” Harry carded the fingers through the white blond hair, watching as Draco cracked open one eye.

“Hmm?” As quickly as it had opened, the eyes closed once more. Draco shifted at bit and sighed happily when he had found an even more comfortable position for his head. He was lying on the couch, using Harry’s thighs as a pillow.

“Did you plan letting your parents know about your whereabouts?” Harry asked out of fairness. He didn’t want Draco to leave, not now and not ever, but he wondered what the elder Malfoys were thinking by now, seeing that he had already been gone for hours.

“Oh. Yes, well…” Draco trailed off. “I don’t want to get up.”

Harry smiled at the whiny undertone in his voice. “You don’t have to. Just call a house-elf and tell him or her to inform them that you’re at Hogwarts.”

Instead of an answer, Draco called for Dori and sent her away with instructions what to tell his parents. When she had disappeared, Draco turned to Harry. “Thanks for reminding me.”

“You’re welcome. They must have been worried already.”

“Oh, no, not really. Father knows how I am when it comes to work. He’ll think I got caught up with something and forgot everything around me,” Draco replied, unconcerned.

Harry chuckled. “Well, he wouldn’t be wrong about that.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Draco agreed. He rolled onto his side and pushed himself into a sitting position. “How come we didn’t notice that you’ve been pregnant for weeks?”

“Hmm. I did feel a little strange lately, but I put it down to stress. The beginning of a new school year goes along with lots of things to do. Moreover, now, that the Headmistress appointed me Head of Gryffindor House, it has been even more taxing.”

“You won’t be able to teach all of your lessons,” Draco reminded him and Harry sighed. But what the blond next said shocked him. “Maybe it would be better if you stopped working altogether? It might help keeping the baby safe.”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course I am. You just said that you’re stressed and you mentioned earlier that you’re exhausted to the point when you thought to resort to potions,” Draco pointed out.

“Yes, I did. But now that we know why I feel that way, I think I can cope. Besides, nothing I did so far seemed to harm the baby. You heard Severus, didn’t you? It’s already eleven weeks old. And it’s perfectly healthy.”

“Well, I should hope it will remain that way.”

“It will. Of course it will. I’m going to foist my practical classes off to Severus – again. But I’d love to stay here and fulfil my other obligations as long as I’m going to be able to do so.”

Draco looked distinctly unhappy. 

“Look, I’m also worried about the child. However, I also believe that, if I was to remain home for the duration of the pregnancy, I’m going to go mad. I’ll run to the bathroom every thirty minutes, checking for blood. I won’t be able to think about anything but the child. Most likely, I’ll just sit in a corner and cast the spell about twenty times a day, just to reassure myself of its wellbeing.”

“You’re right,” Draco conceded, albeit obviously unwillingly. “Severus mentioned that it was important for you to stay calm and relaxed.”

“Now that’s going to be impossible. But having something to help distract me would be good.”

“Okay. But if there’s anything changing, no matter how small the discomfort might be, you’re out of here sooner than you can blink.” Draco stared at him until he inclined his head in agreement. “Thank you.”

“I also only want the best for our child, Draco,” Harry reminded him gently. At first, he had been a bit peeved when Draco started giving him instructions on how to behave. But then, as he made and effort to what he was truly saying, he realized that Draco was as terrified as he was. In his helplessness to ensure their safety, he tried to keep everything remotely stressful away from Harry, praying that it would be enough.

“I know.” Draco leaned against Harry, heaving a sigh. Both of them seemed to be aware that the upcoming weeks would drag endlessly. An eternity was lying ahead of them and they could do nothing but wait and pray.

\--

Harry had expected the waiting to be hard, but never in his wildest fantasies had he thought it would be that bad. The only positive aspect was that he hadn’t known he was pregnant before the tenth week was over. Therefore, they hadn’t had to wait and pray for that black day in the first pregnancy to come and go. Harry was incredibly grateful for that small mercy.

But it was still awful. He had watched Hermione and a lot of other female friends. They became pregnant and from the moment they knew about the child, they started making plans, sorting out the living situation, informing friends and family, buying baby clothes. They never stopped to think about what could happen and that, just because they were pregnant, there was no guarantee that they would hold their baby in their arms soon. 

For Harry, this time it was different. While he yearned to make plans with Draco, both of them had decided, independently, that they wouldn’t do anything like that. Not so soon. They would wait at least another month, maybe longer. 

Sometimes, Harry did not only feel like he was denying himself happiness he had been waiting for so long, but he was also, in a rather inexplicable way, betraying the baby. Didn’t it deserve parents that were looking forward to its birth? Probably more than people who feared the worst, he answered himself.

But he couldn’t get into the new situation. Not the way he wanted to, because, in his opinion, it was too soon.

\--

Fortunately, Harry was in the position of being surrounded with a lot of people with opinions. If he wasn’t able to make up his mind considering what was right or wrong, they gladly relieved him of that burden.

Unfortunately, none of them were him and, therefore, they had no idea what they were talking about. Of course, that fact didn’t hold any of them off from speaking their mind.

Harry, and Draco, too, learned a lot during the following weeks. Apparently, thinking positive was mandatory. You could kill your unborn child if you had too many negative thoughts. At first, Harry had honestly wondered if there could be some truth in this one. Until Severus pointed out to him that, if that was the case, lots of young women would just imagine their child dead and spare themselves an abortion, and Harry understood that this, like so many other things, was just something people wanted to believe.

If you were able to force yourself to think positively, you actively contributed to the wellbeing of your child. However, the Potions Master asked him to ignore comments like that. Thinking positive would help him, but not the baby. After all, Harry himself had been born in the middle of a war when his mother had no time to think about wonderful things as she was busy with working for the Order.

Another point of contention was medical supervision, or rather, the lack thereof. Initially, Harry had believed that, as long as he and the baby were doing well, he didn’t have to go see a Healer. Apparently, that was wrong. Even people like the Weasleys, who had half a dozen children, told him that it was simply irresponsible to wait until his body told him that something was wrong. By then, it would be too late. What no one mentioned, that there was nothing that could be done for the child in that stage. The only help he could expect was another surgery, meaning he would have to say goodbye once again.

Harry, who was incredibly nervous every time he used the spell to check on his child, doubted he would survive regular appointments at St. Mungo’s. He couldn’t imagine having to live from week to week and, when he got told off once again, decided to see Pomfrey to get another opinion. If she told him that it had to be done, he would fight down his uneasiness and give in to the inevitable.

But, thankfully, the mediwitch just shook her head. She explained that it was important to ensure that child and dad were well, but that he didn’t have to consult a Healer for that. The familiar spell worked for the baby and Draco could check him once in a while. As long as they took any change seriously, nothing could go wrong. Additionally, she agreed that more examinations only led to more stress, which was unneeded and, therefore, inadvisable.

The third time Harry told his partner how someone had accused him of being selfish because he still maintained at least part of his job, Draco lost his temper. He demanded to know who that well-meaning person had been. Upon learning that it had been his mother, his practically jumped into to Floo and was gone before Harry could get in another word.

When he reappeared, he wore a smug expression, radiating satisfaction.

“And?” Harry asked wearily, sighing. 

“She won’t say anything anymore,” Draco declared.

“Well, I hope you remained polite…”

“Of course I did. But, honestly, only because this time, we let them know about the baby, there’s no need for everyone to bombard us, you especially, with unbidden advice. I’m so sick of listening to everyone listing what we’re, supposedly, doing wrong,” he replied, frowning. 

“Hmm.”

“Don’t tell me you appreciate it.”

“No, I don’t. But what can I do?”

“Tell them to keep their opinions to themselves. Tell them that you’re not some stupid, little idiot who doesn’t know how to look after himself. Because you’re doing just fine! You take care of yourself and the little one. Even Severus said so. Didn’t Pomfrey commend you on how well you were coping with the situation?” Harry nodded. “See? And that is why we don’t need to other people making us insecure, making us doubt ourselves.”

“You really think I’m doing all right?” Harry needed to hear that again. 

“Yes, I happen to think so. I know I bugged you about your job at the beginning, but that was just out of concern and only for a little while.” Draco sounded contrite. “I’ve watched you during the last weeks. One cannot be any more careful than you are. Not unless you want them to put you in a coma and only wake you up after the child will be born. You still have a life to live.”

“Gave it some thought, did you?” Harry smiled at him. Draco had said exactly what he had been hoping to hear.

“Yes, I did. And I talked to my father.”

Did he now? Harry inwardly rolled his eyes.

“He said that there’s no need to be more cautious than you already are. If there were anything obviously wrong, he’d understand additional safety measures. But since everything is just fine, he said to ignore everyone else and listen to your instincts.”

“He said that?”

“Yes. He told me how Severus was driving himself batty, trying to keep his children and nothing worked. Of course, now we know that there was nothing he could have done differently, and it really wore him down. He didn’t wish that sort of life on anyone.”

Harry sighed. He didn’t want to think about what still could go wrong, and maybe Malfoy was right? As long as he had nothing to really worry about, he ought to relax and enjoy it. As long as it lasted, a tiny voice whispered in his ear, but Harry yelled at it to shut up.

\--

As the year drew to a close, Harry and Draco started to relax. Harry was twenty-five weeks along and Healer Jones had told them that, if something should happen now, their child’s chances to survive outside of the womb were now increasing with each week. Of course, it was still far from ideal, but by now, the baby wouldn’t be condemned to death automatically.

That had been the moment when Harry allowed himself to be truly happy. His child would live. He was certain of it.

Draco, who had come with him to the appointment, had also been relieved. As the walked out of the hospital side by side, he led Harry into the nearest shop and urged him to buy everything he thought he might need, just more of it. They amassed a scary amount of stuff, enough to fit out three nurseries. When the cashier rung up their purchases, they just smiled at each other and began to shrink the bags. For them, that day symbolized Christmas that year.

Two nights before New Year’s Eve, they were invited to Malfoy Manor for dinner. The elder Malfoys had accepted that they wanted to spend the holidays with Ron and Hermione and, most important, little Rose. In return for their understanding, they insisted that the boys came to visit them one night before the end of the year.

Reluctantly, Harry had agreed. Since his latest altercation with Draco’s mother, he hadn’t seen her. Well, it hadn’t been Harry who had fought with her. But, since Draco had told her off because of something she said to Harry, he might as well have.

As he had expected, Harry found the atmosphere in the Manor to be quite frosty. The reception had been forced and, from there on, it had gotten worse over the hours. Eventually, they had made it to the end of the meal without any bigger catastrophes to take place, but that also meant that now came the time Harry dreaded the most.

Sitting by the fire, having tea or something stronger, and being expected to maintain a lively, cheerful conversation with people he didn’t particularly like. Harry caught himself wishing for Severus’ presence. If he was there, at least he would be able to keep Malfoy happy. 

Draco handed Harry a cup of tea, brushing his fingers before he pulled his own hand back. Harry thanked him and, as he was looking up, he saw Malfoy’s jaw dropping to the floor. Nudging Draco, he nodded into his father’s direction. At first, Draco frowned, uncomprehending, but then he asked the older man if there was something wrong.

Malfoy cleared his throat. “Do you already know the gender of the child?”

“Well, yes. Why?” Draco was instantly suspicious and Harry understood him all too well. While they had shared the news about the pregnancy from the start, they kept the gender to themselves. They thought the others didn’t have to know everything. Additionally, they wanted to avoid the lists of possible names. They still got the one or other suggestion, but if people knew details, Harry was sure that it would be so much worse.

The underlying critique rolled off Malfoy. Maybe he had chosen to ignore it or, like so many other people, he was suffering from selective hearing. As it was, he went on as if Draco hadn’t said a thing. “I take it the child is female. When did you learn about that? Is it one hundred percent certain, no error possible? Otherwise, I have to wonder why Mr Potter takes the Facresentum Potion this early in the pregnancy.”

Harry blinked. Tomorrow, the twenty-sixth week would start. How was that too early to know about the gender? He shook his head. It wasn’t important, anyways.

“I don’t take the potion,” he stated.

“Excuse me?” Malfoy put his drink aside and leaned forward in his seat. “You do nothing to protect yourself and the child you are carrying? I think that is rather careless.” In the armchair beside him, his wife nodded.

“He doesn’t need it,” Draco interjected. “We tried it a few years back, but he didn’t tolerate it.”

“He did not…” Malfoy hummed, stroking his chin with gloved hands. Unlike Draco, he wore them all the time when Harry was visiting. “He tried it, you said?”

“ _He_ sits right here,” Harry snapped. The first time he had been able to ignore it, but now it was starting to grate on his nerves. The older he got, the more he minded when people shunned him. He figured that it was a belated reaction to his time at the Dursley’s, the relatives he had been placed with for sixteen long years.

Malfoy didn’t miss a beat. “How often did you try, Mr Potter? Maybe something else was responsible for your body’s disagreeable reaction.”

“Hardly,” Harry said. “We tried more than once. I would take the potion and soon afterwards, I would find myself kneeling in front of the toilet.” Once, he hadn’t even made it quite that far, but there was no need to tell Malfoy of that particular occasion.

Malfoy looked pensive, his wife almost as clueless as Harry felt. Draco seemed to be intrigued and eagerly waiting for his father to elaborate.

“That is curious,” Malfoy conceded. “I would have to consult Severus to be absolutely certain, but as far as I know, there is only one reason for you not to tolerate the potion, Mr Potter.”

Harry was puzzled. What was the man alluding? Severus knew that Harry got sick from the Facresentum Potion and he had never said a thing. Harry mentioned as much.

“Obviously, there are at least as many possibilities as there are ingredients,” Draco asked his father to consider. “So, whatever you may think off, it could very well be wrong.”

“Thank you, Draco. That was exactly why I wanted to speak with Severus.” Malfoy looked put out by his son’s gentle rebuke.

“I am a Potions Master, too…” Draco muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Your father is aware of that,” Mrs Malfoy said, trying hard to sound soothingly. It didn’t work where Harry was concerned and he doubted that it was any different for Draco. Hopefully, she didn’t plan to add that they were, after all, the ones who had funded their son during the years of his apprenticeship.

Draco’s face remained impassive and Harry swore that, inwardly, he was scowling. Once again, Malfoy remained unaffected by the feelings of everyone around him.

“Let us get back to the topic at hand. As of now, I am unable to disclose my assumption. But, even if Mr Potter is unaffected by your touch, Draco, how can you be sure that the same goes for your unborn child?”

“There is no proof that a Furattactus brings harm to his closest relatives,” Harry argued only to be stopped by Malfoy before he could continue.

“I beg to differ. There _is_ proof of that.” Malfoy glanced at Draco, a hint of regret showing in his eyes. “I am sorry to shatter your belief, but a father can, indeed, harm his child. Fatally, I might add. It was not out of hearsay that I kept physical contact with you to a bare minimum, making sure that I wore the gloves at all times. Your mother and I discussed this, and came to the result that it would be the only possible solution if we wanted to keep you safe.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. Severus had been wrong? Hermione had been wrong!

Mrs Malfoy nodded. “Draco. Your grandfather never wanted to accept that rules applied to him, as well. Therefore, when his first child was born, he decided that it was something special. Surely, he thought, the boy was magically strong enough to withstand his touch. Unfortunately, he found he was wrong when the child lost not only his magic but also his life.”

Unconsciously, Harry’s hand went to his stomach. 

“It was a boy.” Draco shook his head. “He risked his heir for a stupid experiment?”

“My older brother, yes. Well, as obviously stupid as it may seem to you, Draco, my father never thought anything like that would happen. He did not tell me of that tragic occurrence himself, I overheard a conversation he was having with one of his associates, but I understand that he regretted his mistake afterwards.”

“How old was he?” Harry dared to inquire. He was wondering if they ever found out whether the child had been a Furattactus as well. Besides, no matter how sad Malfoy’s little tale had been he somehow doubted that his children would share that fate. Now he just had to hope that he wasn’t blinded by the very same arrogance as the late Malfoy senior.

“I am not sure. I never asked.” Malfoy’s expression turned sour, making Harry shudder at the images that forced themselves in front of his inner eye. He, too, had learned early on that questions were rarely welcome.

Draco was biting his lip, but instantly released it when he caught his mother’s gaze on him. “Did you get to know him?”

Malfoy shook his head. “I was the replacement.”

“Merlin!” Harry gasped. His hearing must be betraying him.

Mrs Malfoy patted her husband’s arm. “You may have been that for your father, but we are happy to have you.”

Harry thought that must have been the nicest thing he had ever heard her say. Though she wasn’t in love with him, she certainly held a lot of affection for the man. It was heartening to know that there were other things of interest in the life of Narcissa Malfoy than status symbols and influence.

Unhappy with the uncomfortable turn the evening had taken, Harry wanted nothing more than getting permission to leave. Part of him felt sorry for Malfoy and he didn’t know how to act on it. Additionally, another part of him still refused to discuss their child with its grandparents and was annoyed, that, again, someone else tried to influence his decisions. 

“I’m sorry about your brother,” Draco said quietly. He looked stricken and Harry’s heart went out to him. He knew how much Draco had wanted a sibling and knowing that his father had lost his brother had to be horrible.

Malfoy inclined his head but said very matter-of-factly, “If he had survived, though, I would not be here.”

“Gods, I…” Draco shrugged helplessly and Harry winced. Why had it all to be so complicated?

\--

The following afternoon, Harry went to visit Hermione. He had to tell someone about his dinner experience from hell.

When he had finished his tale, she shook her head. “What do you expect me to say? Except, that I really think you deserve a reprieve.”

She could have admitted that, for once in her life, her excessive research had brought a wrong result, something that could have led to a fatal mistake. It was not thanks to her that Harry’s child was still alive inside of him. But he wasn’t prepared to throw that in her face. His already guilty conscience, that kept accusing him for taking advantage of her willingness to help at any time, prevented him from doing so.

“Thank you. I think so, too,” he said instead.

“What about Draco? How did he cope with the newly acquired knowledge of his dead uncle?”

“He can live with that. What disturbs him is the uncertainty of not knowing whether he’s harming his child by touching me. He wasn’t insecure before, but hearing such a horror story makes you rethink your opinion,” Harry explained.

“Do you know the gender? Maybe, if it’s a girl, you might want to give the potion another chance,” she suggested. “We really do not know if your body is able to shield the child.”

“The last months are not proof enough?” Harry shook his head. 

“Well…” Hermione frowned. “I think they should be. But I don’t want to promise you one thing only to be proved wrong afterwards. What happened to that boy is, indeed, not the same. He was on his own as he was exposed to his father’s magic, while your child is not. Hmm. Did Mr Malfoy mention whether it was noted if his late brother was a Furattactus?”

“He didn’t say. But I asked myself the same thing and came to the conclusion that, most likely, there was no way for them to find out. If it had been possible posthumously, it should also be possible to find out before a young man comes into his inheritance. Which would be quite convenient, don’t you think?”

“That makes sense,” Hermione conceded. “So what are you going to do?”

“Trust my intuition, I guess. I was scared about the child’s health, but somehow, I always knew that Draco wouldn’t be bad for it in any way,” Harry said, hoping that she wouldn’t make fun of him, saying he was delusional.

“And when it’s born?” There was no hint of mirth in her face. As she did most of the time, Hermione managed to remain objective.

“Do you mean if I would feed it the potion?”

Hermione nodded.

Harry, knowing that it wasn’t even an option, opted to keep his response evasive. “I’ll have to think about that some more.”

“What does Draco say?” A small wail could be heard from the next room and Hermione stood, already turning towards the door.

“Go check on Rose,” Harry said, pushing himself to his feet, and sending wordless thanks to his goddaughter for saving him from the rest of the conversation. “I need to get going anyways.”

“Are you sure? Rose would be happy to see more of you,” Hermione’s voice could be heard from the other room.

“Positive. But let me give her a kiss first,” Harry said, joining his two favourite females in the nursery.

\--

At the end of January, Harry made his way from Hagrid’s hut up to the castle, cursing the rain that made the path slippery and him shivering from the cold. A water repelling charm was something wonderful, but only if one managed to cast it in time. When it occurred to him, he had already been drenched. Even a quick drying charm didn’t prevent him from feeling chilled.

Struggling up the hill, Harry glanced ahead to determine how much longer it would take him, when his gaze met a welcome sight.

“Neville, hi!”

Neville, standing on top of the stairs, had seen him as well, waved and hurried downwards. “Hello. What are you doing out here? It’s not raining, it’s pouring down,” he chided when he had reached Harry.

“I was visiting with Hagrid and had just left when it started,” Harry said, shrugging. “Let’s go inside. I need some tea to warm up.”

Neville nodded. “Yes, you do; that and a place in front of a crackling fire.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Harry smiled. “What brings you here today?”

“Business with Snape. He sent an extensive list a few days ago and I came here to talk about the details.” Neville grinned and gestured for Harry to enter the building in front of him. “He ordered _a lot_.”

“That’s great!” Harry exclaimed, shaking himself like a wet dog. Leading the way towards his quarters, he asked, “Do you have everything he wanted on stock?”

“No, but that won’t be a problem. Hannah and I went through the list last night and we’re going to be able to have everything he needs within two months. Most of it will be available within a week,” Neville said, slowing his steps when he turned to Harry and noticed that he was a few feet behind. “Snape said that was all right. Apparently, every Potions Master who deserves his title should be able to plan ahead so that the rare ingredients don’t run out before new ones can be procured.”

That sounded just like Severus. Harry chuckled, trying to hide his panting. Who knew that walking would become that strenuous during the last months of a pregnancy? He had watched a lot of his friends over the years, but experiencing it first hand was indeed something else.

When they reached their destination, Neville ushered Harry to the sofa and went to prepare the tea. Harry, who was grateful for the help, protested only half-heartedly.

“Hannah told me that Hermione told her you had another encounter with your in-laws?” Neville said from the small kitchenette. He had to repeat himself because Harry got only half of what he had said due to the persistent whistling of the teapot.

“Well, it was a dinner invitation. Malfoy noticed that Draco was touching me with his bare hands and was concerned,” Harry explained readily. “Afterwards, both of us were a bit shaken by what he had told us.”

“The dead brother, yes.” Neville returned with two cups of tea, handing one of them to Harry.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

“You’re right. I was talking about the tale of how the father killed the son by a simple touch. Thankfully, I was able to convince Draco that nothing like that would happen to our child.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Hermione asked the same. It’s…” Harry trailed off. He had no way to explain it except that he was sure somehow. There was the feeling that told him that Draco was good for him and his child. He shrugged.

“It’s one of those things you just know, isn’t it? But didn’t Hermione come to the same result?”

“Yes.” Harry was grateful for Neville’s understanding and prayed that he would just accept the ‘yes’ as an answer to both of his questions.

“But what about another Furattactus? Would you allow him the same?”

Harry blinked, uncomprehending.

“Malfoy,” Neville elaborated. “Would you shake hands with him if he was not wearing his gloves?”

Now that was a tricky question, Harry had to admit. But after giving it some thought, he nodded. “Yes. Yes, I would.”

“You don’t think they can harm you?”

“No. I know it sounds weird, because I can’t prove it, but I think I’m right,” Harry admitted.

Neville grinned. “Maybe you are. I remember that you’d been different from the start. I’d still recommend that you risk no experiments until after the birth.”

Harry huffed. He wasn’t stupid. “Sure. But, you know, someday I would really like to know what all of that is about.”

\--

A month before the baby was due, Harry stopped teaching altogether. McGonagall claimed that she didn’t want to risk him having the child in his classroom and said she would feel better if he took a break, starting now.

Since every step was exhausting by then, Harry agreed happily. He would have asked for a replacement eventually, but was glad that he didn’t have to let her down. When she sent him into his maternity leave, she had already looked for and found someone to cover for him for the duration of the school year, not only as DADA teacher but also as Head of Gryffindor. It was, like Harry, a former student who was happy to come back.

Over the summer, they would come together and talk about Harry’s future at Hogwarts, though the witch hinted that she would understand if he didn’t come back in the foreseeable future. For his part, Harry was grateful that he didn’t have to make a final decision right now.

Having Winky at Hogwarts, helping him pack his stuff, was strange, for, nowadays, she symbolized his life outside of these walls. When he had gathered everything he deemed necessary, he told her to take everything home. Draco was awaiting him, but he wouldn’t need to take his books and the clothes that didn’t fit anymore there.

While Winky finished packing and moving his belongings, Harry went to see Severus. Rapping at the door, he waited until he was asked to enter.

“Good morning, Severus.”

The older man looked up from the letter in his hand. “Good morning. You are leaving?”

“Yes. Everything’s packed and… I just wanted to say goodbye,” Harry said quietly. Ever since he had learned that Severus had shared his bad luck, he was feeling insecure around the older man. He couldn’t deal with his emotions very well and was always afraid that he would say something stupid or inconsiderate. Harry was aware how much unbidden, good advice and careless remarks hurt and he didn’t want to be responsible for doing the same, albeit unknowingly.

During the preparation of the ritual, it had been a bit easier, because they were united in their goal to find a solution and succeed in banishing the last remainder of Voldemort. After it had been done and Harry and Draco thought having sex in the Professor’s bed would be a good idea, the atmosphere had changed. Ever since then, Harry had problems meeting the other man’s gaze. Maybe it was out of a bad conscience or out of pity that, while he now had a chance at happiness, Voldemort’s death had come too late for Severus. Harry didn’t know. 

“Well, I wish you all the best,” Severus said, turning his attention back to the letter. Sometimes, it was hard to believe that was the same man who had stayed by Harry’s side during the hardest time of his life.

“Thank you,” he murmured, unable to hide his disappointment. But since Severus wasn’t even listening anymore, it didn’t matter. “Starting tomorrow, Kenneth Towler will take over my lessons, so you’re going to have more free time again.”

“Did I ever complain?” Severus snapped. “As far as I was concerned, our agreement worked quite well.”

“Well, you were not overjoyed,” Harry defended his rather careless comment. He was thankful for the unhesitating help that was granted with comparatively little fuss. However, Severus was certainly relieved that he could go back to teaching just his own classes.

“Who would be?”

Unfortunately, there was nothing Harry could think of the say in response to that. 

Severus smirked. “Exactly. Now, as I was saying, I wish you all the best for the remaining month and a quick, uncomplicated birth. Good luck.”

“Thank you, Severus.” Harry gulped. He briefly considered saying something else, like how grateful he was for all the support he had got in times of trouble, but then he figured it wouldn’t be welcome. Maybe the main problem was that Severus was jealous. Not the malicious kind, but it had to hurt him watching his dreams come true for someone else.

Walking to the door as quickly as he could, Harry slipped out of the room. That conversation had gone nothing like he had hoped it would.

\--

“Harry…” Draco called from the door, a whiny undertone in his voice. “Are you interested in having lunch at the Manor?”

For a moment, Harry wanted to throw a pillow at him. Or maybe the heavy book he was balancing on his knees would be better suited? What was he thinking? Harry was about to burst any second and Draco wanted him to leave the house?

He was about to open his mouth and let his partner know what he thought of that idea, when it clicked in his mind. Could it be that Draco was on the Floo with one of his parents and actually wanted Harry to say he didn’t go? The sour expression he wore supported that possibility.

Hoping he was doing the right thing, Harry heaved a sigh and said, “I’d love to, but I’m not feeling up to it. Actually, I would prefer if you stayed home, too. It’s just a few more days and it could start any time and having you near would make me feel safer.”

Draco winked at him and Harry grinned back. “Oh, well, that’s a shame. I will have to deny Mother’s kind invitation.”

“I am so sorry, Draco. But I’m sure she will understand,” Harry said in a false friendly tone. He was lying through his teeth as he was certain that she would be miffed by his rejection. 

Showing his appreciation, Draco nodded happily. “Of course she will. I’m going to give her your regards?” He sounded rather cheerful now.

“Please do.” 

Draco almost skipped out of the room. Harry watched him go with a smile, knowing that he would sedate his gait when he came within eyeshot of the fireplace.

A few minutes later, the conversation stopped and Draco came back soon after.

“And?”

“Well, she was pissed because she only asked after she told the house-elves to prepare a meal for four people. But that’s hardly our concern, is it?”

“Not really, no.” Harry knew that it was impossible for Mrs Malfoy to understand his decision. Stepping into the Floo and travelling to her house for a meal was about as exhausting as was walking into their dining room a few doors down the hall. But he didn’t want to expose himself to another lecture on what he had to expect during the birth and what was expected of him once the child had been born.

Whatever she had to say, it was pretty useless to him anyways. A male birth differed from a female in many ways, so there was no need for her to think she had valuable information. The only thing both situations had in common was that, one way or another, the child had to come out.

“How is your back? Does it still hurt?” Draco asked, plopping on the sofa beside Harry.

“Sometimes more, sometimes less.” Harry shrugged. “I’ll live.”

“Do you want me to call someone, Healer Jones for example, and ask if that’s supposed to tell us something?”

“Like contractions, you mean?” Harry bit his lip. “Well, I was told that backache could be an indication…”

Draco’s eyes widened. “Oh wow. Uh, I’m going to call him and you just…stay where you are.”

Rolling his eyes, Harry obeyed. He had nowhere to go anyways. As he listened to Draco’s excited chatter in the next room, Harry chuckled. 

“He wants us to wait a little longer before we are expected to come to St Mungo’s,” Draco reported when he came back. “Apparently, what you experience now is just one of the signs that something is happening. But it’s nothing to be concerned about.” Draco winced. “He also suggested starting to prepare you for the birth, though.”

“Someone is blushing…” Harry teased. Inwardly, he was relieved that he hadn’t been the one having to listen to this kind of instructions.

“You would have been, too!” Draco pouted. “I assume you already know what he was talking about?”

“Yes, I do. I’ll head into the bedroom and you bring the oil?”

And that was how they proceeded. Ten minutes later, Harry was lying on his side of the huge four-poster bed, a towel spread under his exposed lower body. In any other situation, he would have laid on his back, but during the last weeks, that particular position had become uncomfortable, making it hard to breathe.

Draco had selected a bottle of massage oil, smelling of citrus fruits. Upon Harry’s question, he promised that it was suitable for ‘inner’ applications.

Lying down, with his front to Harry’s back, Draco said, a smile in his voice, “Foreplay without sex is a bit strange, don’t you think?”

“Well, we could fuck,” Harry offered. He had been told that certain parts would have to be spelled clean anyways. Certainly, a little sperm added to the mix wouldn’t make a difference.

Draco shuddered behind him. “No, I think I’d rather give it a miss.”

Harry hummed. “But, I heard that an orgasm can actually help speeding the process along during contractions.”

“So I should get you off in front of the hospital staff?”

“Maybe not…”

“I thought so.” Draco sounded smug. There was some rustling to be heard and then, slick fingers sneaked between Harry’s legs. “Could you tilt your hip forward and maybe pull up your right leg?”

Harry complied.

“Thank you.” Draco nuzzled Harry’s neck and allowed his fingers to become bolder. Soon, he had both of them inside Harry and started to stretch him with gentle movements. It was nice, Harry decided. Even though he had been in a similar position often enough, this time it was different. Not arousing, at least not overly so. It was quite soothing, like most of the times when Draco was taking care of him. Sighing, Harry made an effort to relax into Draco’s embrace and, before he knew it, his eyes fell closed. 

Some indefinite time later, he awoke to an insistent pressure and, in his semi-somnolent state, tried to lessen it by shifting away.

“Harry. Please stay put,” Draco instructed from behind him and Harry snapped back into awareness. 

“What are you trying to do?” he asked, not bothering to hide his annoyance. It bloody hurt! “You’re splitting me open!”

“No, I’m not,” Draco gave back in the same tone Harry had addressed him. “But the head of your son will, if we don’t do this thoroughly.”

Harry winced. Of course, there were spells to loosen up the respective area and muscles, but Harry was aware it would not only be painful, but also would not protect him from injuries quite as surely. The spells, Jones had explained months ago, usually were used when there wasn’t enough time left for other methods.

“Sorry…”

“Don’t be.” In order to show him that he had no misgivings, Draco pulled him closer. “Maybe we should have incorporated fisting into our sex life before,” he joked.

“It hurts. I don’t think I like it,” Harry grumbled. “How much is this?”

“Four fingers, as far inside as I could manage without ripping my thumb off.”

Harry cursed. That was not what it felt like. “Oh Merlin.”

“I can stop here and go on when you have the first contractions.”

“Because, when I’m already in pain I’m not going to feel much of that?”

“Obviously, you don’t like that idea,” Draco said dejectedly.

“Not really,” Harry admitted. When the real fun started, he wanted to have Draco at his side to support him, not fumbling around inside of him. There was always the option of having someone else prepare him, but that prospect sounded even worse.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Go on,” Harry said eventually. After another moment, he asked, “Am I the only one who thinks it weird having a conversation while your hand is up my arse?”

“Slightly weird, yes,” Draco conceded. “But pulling it out for the duration of our talk would have been counterproductive.”

Harry merely grunted in response. Soon, he groaned when Draco started to make room for his thumb. Once it was inside, including the knuckle, it got a little easier.

“Did he say how much we were supposed to do?”

Draco sighed. “How big is his head? There you have your answer.”

“You’re planning to shove both hands up there?” Harry squeaked incredulously. “No way!”

Patting Harry’s arm in a placating manner, Draco apologized. “I shouldn’t have said that. Apparently, the magic that allows you to carry a child in the first way also helps your body to get it out. The stretching we did is just supposed to ease the way.”

“You sure?” Harry shivered. He didn’t want to be spilt in two.

“I’m very sure,” Draco said.

Harry wanted to believe him so very much.

\--

It had been so much worse than Harry had imagined. But that was only half of truth. In spite of easily being his most painful experience, it had also been the greatest moment of his life to date.

Nothing had gone according to plan. When the contractions had started, it hadn’t been gradually like Healer Jones had told him. It had gone from nothing to one hundred and fifty percent within minutes. Draco had wanted to Floo the hospital, asking them to send a team of Healers, but Harry hadn’t let him go, the death grip he had on Draco’s wrist leaving bruises. 

Afterwards, both of them had to wonder why they didn’t think to call a house-elf.

In his panic, Draco summoned his wand and tried to conjure his Patronus, only to fail miserably. He had never been overly sufficient with that charm and so Draco pleaded with Harry to cast his own.

“Harry! Please… For the love of… Harry!”

“What?” Harry snapped when he had enough oxygen left to do so.

“Cast a Patronus and tell it to get help! We can’t do this alone!” Draco’s nerves must be shredded to pieces since he was yelling. He pressed his wand into Harry’s hand.

Gathering some strength, Harry forced himself to concentrate and, eventually, managed to cast the spell on the third try. Unable to think straight any longer, he said the first name that came to his mind and the translucent stag galloped away.

While they were waiting, Draco tried repeatedly to peel Harry’s fingers off, but to no avail. Finally accepting that he wouldn’t move anytime soon, he shifted until he was resting with his back against the headboard, pulling Harry with him.

“Draco!” Someone called from the direction of the fireplace. Harry couldn’t quite place the voice, but right now, he didn’t really care.

“In here!” 

Two people entered the room and, suddenly, Harry found that he cared very much. What the hell?

“Dad! Severus. Thank Merlin…” In his relief, Draco sagged notably. However, he still kept himself upright and didn’t let go of Harry.

“Well, fuck… Lucius, get Healer Jones here. I do not care what you have to do, but get him here. Now!” Severus ordered sharply. Instead of putting up a fight, Malfoy spun on his heels and hurried out of the room. “How long has he been in labour?”

“Half an hour, tops.”

Severus eyes threatened to bulge out of their sockets. “Are you sure?”

“Very,” Draco confirmed, brushing back the sweaty hair on Harry’s forehead.

“Even if he drags the Healer here by the scruff of the neck, it will take your father a few minutes to come back.” Severus sighed. “Did you do anything in preparation?”

“Yes. When he mentioned some backache earlier, we stretched his rectum,” Draco admitted.

“Very good,” Severus commended. “Enough?”

“Do you think his whole hand up there will suffice?” Harry barked. He had another short reprieve during the contraction and he consciously witnessed Severus interrogating poor Draco.

“Let’s hope so. I was told that suturing birthing injuries can be tricky in males,” Severus replied calmly and to the point. He shook his wand out of his sleeve and began summoning towels, potions and various other things. 

“We’re not going to take him to St Mungo’s?” Draco sounded shocked. Before giving an answer, Severus charmed some of the towels to come to rest underneath Harry.

“No, we are not. If you do not want to endanger him or the child, Draco, you will say goodbye to these bedclothes and the mattress and help Harry to the best of your ability.”

Draco nodded frantically enough for Harry to feel his movements. What Severus had said didn’t sound good. It was rather terrifying. Somehow, Harry wondered if he could exit this late in the game. Another vicious contraction hit him, the pain making him forget what he had thought mere seconds ago.

“It is not supposed to be like this,” Severus muttered. “That is much too quick.”

Harry wanted to say that it wasn’t quick enough, but he lacked the opportunity.

“Have you ever been present during a birth?” Draco asked, struggling and failing to keep his voice even.

“Except yours? No.”

“Mine?”

“Draco, for… We do not have the time to engage in small talk!” Severus walked around the bed and knelt in front of them. Gently, he nudged Harry’s legs apart. “Is this okay? I would like to check how far you are.”

Harry waved him off and entwined his fingers with Draco’s, squeezing the blood out of them. It hurt. He wanted this to be over already.

Severus conjured gloves and then there was some prodding, although, thanks to Draco’s efforts, it wasn’t as painful as it could have been.

“You are halfway there, child.” The older man shook his head, repeating ‘half an hour’ over and over.

At that moment, Malfoy and Jones appeared in the doorframe. Severus joined Malfoy in a corner of the room and Jones took over.

Like with that horrible day in another life, Harry lost track of what happened and in what order. 

Spells were cast. Eventually, he was naked. Draco disappeared for a few, endless moments and returned in boxers and an old t-shirt. More spells. The pain lessened, and then it increased. There was an incredible pressure inside of him and someone was yelling their head off. His legs were braced against some moving surface. More hands than he could logically explain were on him. Draco was there, somewhere, as he heard him talk and felt his touches. Some fluid gushed out of him. More pressure, correlated with more yelling. He wasn’t going to survive this.

“Harry. Here, give me your hand,” Severus said. Harry didn’t understand. However, when Draco placed his sweaty hand into Severus’ larger, equally sweaty, one, he allowed it to happen. When it was moved, he forced his muscles to relax and go along with it.

Then, for a few seconds, there was silence. 

Through the fog in his mind, realization penetrated, and, eventually, Harry knew what he was touching with his fingertips.

“Pavo…”

Severus looked to Draco who supposedly nodded. “Yes. His head, Harry. Just a little longer and he will be in your arms.”

Harry gulped. His child. “Oh Gods…”

Draco, again sitting behind him – when had he moved, tightened his hold on Harry’s left hand and, reaching down with his right, entwined their fingers once more. “Come on, Harry. You heard him!”

“Don’t you want to…?” Harry, still overwhelmed, wanted Draco to have the same experience.

“I’ve seen him,” Draco said before another contraction hit and Draco urged Harry to push.

It could have taken seconds or hours, Harry didn’t know, but, finally, something slippery, greasy and screaming was placed on his chest, and Harry fell in love.

He didn’t care what happened with him below the navel. A few Scourgify’s were involved and the Healer was busy and, eventually, they covered him with a sheet, but all of that didn’t matter.

All that mattered to him was his child.

Draco had summoned a towel, covering the baby with it. He didn’t rub him clean, not immediately, but it helped to keep him warm.

“Draco, do you want to cut the umbilical cord?” Malfoy could be heard.

“Harry?”

Harry blinked, reluctantly tearing his gaze from the precious bundle of perfection lying on his chest. “Hmm?”

“It’s okay, Dad. Just cut it,” he said firmly. 

Some more action followed and then the room cleared out, only the new family was left.

Cautiously, Harry ran his finger over a soft cheek. “Draco? He’s… I don’t know.”

“Beautiful, I know,” Draco agreed. The baby chose that moment to open his eyes for the first time. Both fathers were almost blinded by his gaze. The eyes were mostly blue, as were most newborn’s, except for the green line surrounding the iris.

Draco gasped. “How is this possible?”

“What?” Harry asked, perplexed and worried. Had he missed something?

“H-He’s going to have g-green eyes,” Draco stuttered.

“Yes. Great, isn’t it? He’s a perfect mixture between the two of us.” Harry said, still not understanding.

“He should be a spitting image of me…”

“Why? Don’t you like me eyes?” By now, Harry was starting to get annoyed. If Draco loved him, surely he could live with their child resembling him in one or two traits.

“I love them!” Draco hurried to reassure him. “But… No matter. He’s a wonderful, wonderful child and… Isn’t he wonderful?”

“You mentioned that before.”

A knock on the door interrupted them. Soon, it opened and the Healer’s head appeared. “I’d like to take a quick look at the young man before I leave,” he stated, already entering the room. Harry resigned to being prodded again, but Jones just smiled when he noticed Harry shifting into position. “Not you, Mr Potter. I was referring to your son.”

“Oh…” Harry wasn’t happy. He wasn’t prepared to hand the little one over that soon. Thankfully, Draco seemed to pick up on his hesitance and got up, taking their son out of Harry’s arms, handing him to the Healer. He proceeded to hover nearby and didn’t take his eyes of the child for one second.

“Harry? Congratulations.” 

Harry looked up and caught Severus with a smile on his face. “Thank you.”

“You did remarkably well.” 

Harry shifted a bit to make room for his colleague – and friend? Nodding his thanks, Severus took a seat, perching on the edge of the mattress. “We do not know what happened, for, ideally, your magic should have prevented such a hurried course of the birth. However, like I said, you did well.”

“It wasn’t normal?” Harry asked in a small voice. He still disliked being abnormal in any way. Well, except being male and yet able to bear children. That was a definite plus.

“Not abnormal, I think. ‘Unusual’ was the term Healer Jones used.”

“There’s one more thing that’s, apparently, unusual.”

“Oh?”

“He’ll have my eyes.”

“Oh my…” Severus sprang to his feet. “Not to worry, Harry. It’s nothing bad, I can promise you that. But I believe, Lucius was right when his suspicion… Give me one minute.”

He left before Harry could say anything and so, the new father called for his partner. He was confused and worried and he could use a little support.

“Harry, what’s wrong?” Draco returned to the bed with the baby in his arms. Taking Severus’ place, he looked at Harry, concern visible on his features.

“Draco. Mr Potter.” Why did Severus have to bring Malfoy with him? Well, he was the grandfather, but visiting hours would not start before tomorrow, Harry had decided the second he regained his ability to think.

“Congratulations on the birth of your heir,” he said. Harry was tempted to roll his eyes. Of course, another heir, a new generation of Malfoys, was what matter the most.

But then Malfoy’s gaze softened. “From what I can see, he’s a beautiful little boy. He will make you proud.”

“He will,” Draco said, nodding enthusiastically. He sobered. “What just happened, Severus?”

“That question goes to me. – Healer Jones, if you would excuse us?” As if he had only been waiting for his dismissal, the Healer hastily bid his goodbyes and promised to come back for a check-up the following day. 

“All right.” Malfoy conjured a chair and took a seat. “Everything fits together now. Mr Potter’s body rejecting the Facresentum Potion, him being unaffected by Draco’s touch--”

“Not unaffected,” Draco threw in. “He claims that it calms him, makes him stronger in some points.”

“That fits in, as well, as does the boy combining physical traits from both parents. Mr Potter, diluted Furattactus blood is running through your veins,” Malfoy announced, making Harry gape and Draco goggle.

“Excuse me?” Certainly that couldn’t be true.

“Lucius is right. It is the only logical explanation, because it accounts for everything,” Severus said. “Look at the boy’s hair colour. Blond is regressive, therefore he should have dark hair like you, Harry. Due to Draco’s status, he is blond. He has to be. Not all Malfoy wives were blond like the current Mrs Malfoy, yet the sons always took after their fathers. Not only in hair colour, but also their eyes, built, everything came after the father. 

“The only logical conclusion is that you are also a Furattactus. Otherwise, your son would never have green eyes. It is impossible.”

Harry frowned. Somehow, he still found it hard to believe.

“The way you feel when I touch you? That’s what my father does for me,” Draco said. “He’s right. It has to be that way. And it’s nothing bad. You don’t harm other people and, thankfully, you don’t react badly to me. And, even better, our children will also be safe.”

Severus’ eyes widened. “Of course! Lucius, Draco is holding the – naked – boy and nothing happened!”

Malfoy smirked and muttered something that sounded to Harry like ‘sheer dumb luck’, but he appeared to be very satisfied when he took in the sight of his son cradling his grandson.

“What is his name?”

Draco flinched. “You’re going to love it and hate it, Father.”

“It is ‘father’ again, is it?” Malfoy sighed. “No, I am sure you picked something suitable.”

“Pavo Lucian Potter-Malfoy,” Harry said, smiling at his child.

\--

Hours later, Harry awoke and, after making sure that the little one was resting peacefully between him and Draco, he shifted into a more comfortable position, ready to fall asleep once more.

Whispering voices could be heard from a corner of the room, making him perk up his ears.

“You can live with it?”

“Do I have a choice?” Silence. “I was relieved to learn that he is, at least, wearing the family name, even if it is only a an addendum.”

“He is named after you, though.”

“Yes. I have to admit that I am proud.”

More silence.

“Do you think that being a Furattactus helped Harry preserve his mother’s sacrifice?”

“It did not hurt.”

“So you are glad that he vanquished the Dark Lord?”

“Seeing that it didn’t come unexpected…”

“What?” Severus’ outcry was far above a whisper and Harry hoped none of his loved ones would wake as both of then needed their sleep.

“The Dark Lord was showing interest in creatures. He had heard about the Furattacti and was talking about finding himself a new pet. I could not let him find out about Draco. While he hadn’t come into his inheritance, yet, I couldn’t take the chance. I was not concerned about me, but my son is and was off-limits. During his stay at the Manor, I might have brushed past him once or twice… Maybe, when I had to bring him a potion or something else, I forgot to slip on the gloves. It is an easy mistake to make in one’s home.”

The only thing that could be heard was a choked sound, followed by harsh breathing. Either, Harry thought, Severus was suppressing his laughter, or he was this close to fainting from shock. He could relate to both.

\--

When Harry woke the next time, something was lying on his chest, something wriggly and warm. Opening his eyes, the first thing he saw was Pavo. His tiny hands were curled into fists while he was drooling happily onto Harry’s naked skin. He shouldn’t look so cute like that and the drivel should be a bit disgusting. But he did and Harry found that he didn’t mind being misused as a collecting pit for spittle. Pavo was utterly adorable and Harry’s heart swelled with love.

“Good morning, Harry.” Draco’s head appeared. They exchanged a quick peck on the lips. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up. Pavo woke me; he was hungry and unhappy and needed to have his nappy changed. However, the second I placed him on your chest, he fell asleep.”

“I guess being born is about an exhausting experience as it is from the other end.”

“But worth it,” Draco said, voicing it like a question.

“You bet!” Harry confirmed, smiling.

\--

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explanations for the newly created terms used in MoL.
> 
>  
> 
> Furattactus (pl. Furattacti)  
> fur: thief; furax: thievish  
> attactus: touch/contact
> 
>  
> 
> Facresentum Potion  
> …is a potion that protects the drinker from losing their magic/life when they are in physical contact with a Furattactus.
> 
> fac: factum: to become  
> res: restare: to resist  
> tulentum: potulentum: potion
> 
>  
> 
> Prohipotum Potion  
> prohi: prohibitus: repelled  
> potum: potus: potion
> 
>  
> 
> Fecundilentus Potion  
> …is a potion created by Severus Snape for Harry.
> 
> fecunditas: fertility  
> potulentum: potion  
> potus: potion
> 
>  
> 
> Propifecunditas Potion  
> …is a potion given to Harry by Healer Jones.
> 
> propinare: to administer a potion  
> fecunditas: fertility
> 
>  
> 
> Vinductio Immanimus Mortupridem  
> …is a spell used in a ritual to get rid of the remainder of Voldemort in Harry’s scar.
> 
> vindicare: to free so./sth. (from so./sth.)  
> immanis: inhuman  
> animus: soul/spirit  
> mortus: dead  
> pridem: long ago
> 
>  
> 
> _Special thanks and everlasting gratefulness go to my cousin for helping me with the Latin translations._


End file.
